


HEMOPHOBIA - HOMESTUCK SHORTS

by AlchemicAxolotl



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2020-07-21 07:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 28,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19997911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlchemicAxolotl/pseuds/AlchemicAxolotl
Summary: A collection of Homestuck short stories.Focuses will be on Beta Trolls, though all Homestuck characters are a possibility.Fantrolls and fankids will be included, as well as those of my friends.Happy reading!Requests can be commented in the first chapter when opened.Request Status: CLOSED





	1. REQUESTS

Please comment any requests you may have here!  
I don't do Stridercest or any such inc*st.  
Smut will not be written.


	2. ♑ Horns ♑

The purple-blooded troll was likely the only exception when it came to being allowed to drink. He needed it. They shuddered to think what would happen if ever he set down his orange poison. He was a reasonable troll, if not a little ridiculous, and docile when it came to highbloods. It bordered on comedic, just how doped up he was. From the start, ever since they'd remembered, he'd been that way. For how many sweeps he'd been drunk, no one could tell. Nothing could help him. He was past anything resembling rehabilitation, and that's how it would stay. For what it was worth, he was too far gone. He was pacified now, sure. But that would change, soon enough. His movements were far too slow now, and he'd most likely die if he continued the way he was. The others knew, but never dared to mention, that they'd die instead if he were sober. So they let him kill himself, in one slow, painful way. He was now destroying himself even further, relentlessly so. He didn't even seem to care about it. Perhaps he welcomed the peace that came with death. That godawful swill was his preferred method. Sometimes, they wondered why he was prolonging his suffering. Surely there were quicker, better ways to die. Everyone thought that his title as Bard of Rage was an utter joke, of course. As much as they'd liked to have denied it, however, they waited for fire-tinted glass to rain down upon them all. They could only blame themselves for the clown's unravelling. Soon, they thought that he actually cared about being drunk, and wanted it to stop. He had been caught mumbling, with a slurring tongue, about his so-called 'mirthful messiahs', and how they could do... something for him. The theory was left unproven, however, as his words were so slow that they became indecipherable. He barely left his hive, they realised, and was seldom online to communicate with them through Trollian. Things were going on with the highblood. Issues that they would never truly understand. The darkness seemed to call for him, black whims wreathing around his brain. There was a boy that pushed his nerves, day by day, laughing, laughing, mocking. What the naive one didn't realise was a violent troll inside him, Rage-filled beneath layers of drunken stupor, and he only needed a reason to let himself loose. That one gave him a reason. He took it out on another, a girl blind to his true intentions. Though sharp-witted, she saw not the darkness within him, and that he would pollute her with it as he saw fit. He dragged her down, whispering words of corruption and destruction. Tight spaces hid the anger and the pain that he condemned her to. Seeing nothing, she spiralled into hells. His sanity was slipping, his psyche filled with spidering cracks and his body unable to keep him down. Slowly, slowly, he would emerge from beneath that cloud of soporific pollution and **snap**. 


	3. ∞ Heiress ∞

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This short involves the life of one of my fuchsiablooded fantrolls, Cirlun Zephyr. She's a Hero of Void, by the way-

The seadweller was far too lonely. She didn't know what to do about it either. She didn't want to disobey Astril. Her violetblood guardian took care of the affairs of the kingdom, as she was only six sweeps of age. Even if she were considered mature enough for the job, that meant nothing in the scheme of things. Humming, she tapped her fingers against the desk at which she sat, her nails carving nicks into the pearlescent surface. Her lusus wasn't around to offer her any comfort, and that meant that she was left without her only companion. She didn't know whether she was allowed to go above the surface, given the seadwellers' amphibious natures. Astril had always frowned upon the affairs of the lowbloods that made the land their home. Then again, Cirlun knew that her troll guardian wasn't the most even-tempered, and when she was younger - regardless of her already young age, younger in terms of maturity - she had even thought that Astril was one to be feared. She knew now that that had been rather naive of her, to think that her 'mother' was scary. Astril was simply inexperienced when it came to caring for others, and she had little in the way of a maternal instinct. Her lusus had been staying away from her far more than she had previously been, and it worried her. The axolotl was one of the only things that kept her from shrinking into despair, from realising what crippling loneliness she held within her. She had not yet found someone who would play _the game_ with her, she realised, as her eyes swept to land on the black disc-sleeves that she hid from view. They were only visible if one knew to look for them. She had always been good at hiding things, whether they be emotions or physical objects. They were hers, but only because she had stolen them away from Astril in a moment of boredom and defiance. She knew that her guardian had no use for them, and was simply keeping them away from Cirlun so that she didn't have access to them. Being a child, though, she didn't expect nor know of the dangers that lay inside the simple discs. That session of the game, Sgrub, held too many errors ands glitches. The Omega Session had been destroyed in all timelines but her own. To go into it would be akin to suicide. For this reason it was somewhat fortunate that Cirlun had no friends, and certainly not two that would fulfil the 'cardinal aspects', Space and Time. She had been told and taught to obey whatever anyone asked of her, as she knew only those who lived under the sea. Violet and fuchsia reigned, and she was the only fuchsiablood in her timeline, at least to her knowledge. Yet she saw a violetblood as her rightful superior, despite knowing that she was higher and better in terms of the trolls' somewhat warped, unequal caste system. Cirlun stood from the desk, knocking over the chair in which she sat with a soft sigh, then going to pick it up. Astril... didn't care, yet cared too much. Their relationship was strained. She hated that, and wished for the closeness that a so-called human 'mother' would have provided. Her fingers brushed against the carefully glazed wood of the chair, and she roused herself from thought, staring at everything around her. This palace she lived in, this grandiose hive that she had always inhabited, wasn't even her own. Everything screamed one fact at her so loud it was as if it had a real voice: "You don't belong here. Astril is the rightful Empress." Even her room had purple drapery. She knew in her heart that she wouldn't have survived grubhood and been old enough to build her own, and the sheltered life she had lived was simply to ensure that there was a fuchsiablooded troll to rule. With nothing but violetbloods in the sea, there would have surely been total anarchy. The indigobloods were the highest landdwellers, but their... tendencies would render them incompetent rulers. So she was forced to survive. Cirlun wanted to go out, to explore the world and be happy. She wasn't satisfied with what she had, although it seemed selfish. Here, she only found true happiness when she was hunting. When she was out of the walls of the palace. Still, the young troll felt the walls were closing in, and the water that provided for her was drowning her. She looked up at the disc-sleeves again, a small voice in her head telling her to play it. To bring something new into her life, even if she didn't fully understand the rules presented by the game. The consequences would be all too dire if she were to somehow get into a session, _the_ session, on her own. She would not only doom those in the timeline in which she resided. Her choices would effect the game and anyone else within it. She dug her too-sharp nails into her arms as a distraction. Without her strangely unnamed lusus to protect her from her every whim, she needed to do anything in her power to keep herself away from that dangerous, disobedient action. Her mind roamed, however, and further pulled her into temptation. She was wondering what consequence would possibly be worth giving up for her first taste of true freedom. Again, her naivety worked against her. And some, those who knew her not, would have called the seadweller a mature troll. Cirlun was anything but. She had begun to pace, mind reeling. In her head, she saw an idealistic future, and imagined having influence of her own actions. Of what she could do if she acquired freedom. It was too much to give up, even if it turned out to be falsehood. Cirlun tired of everything she had here. So, with a numb hand and finally blank mind, she reached to one of the discs, inviting the void within her soul to reach out and consume her. 


	4. Sea And Sky - Cirlun Zephyr ♦ Etoile Huude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of Cirlun, my royal fantroll.  
> Etoile Huude is my friend Logan's fantroll.
> 
> They're Moirails.

Cirlun knew that she had made a mistake meeting Etoile. She was unimaginably happy with him and around him, but her upbringing told her just how wrong it was for her to be socialising with a lowblood. She knew that Astril meant well, keeping her from the harm within the outside world, but her naivety served to hold her away from the truth. The violetblood was manipulative and strict in her ways. Astril even told herself some days that what she was doing was best, just to make sure she didn't doubt herself. Strictness was just what the high blood needed to ensure safety.So this, in turn, prevented Cirlun from truly drawing from her relationship. In the time she spent with the mutantblood, she was at her happiest, but also her least... grounded. Her thoughts were always elsewhere, her sentences always questioning what her guardian would think. So, when she glanced up at the large hive - the building she had come to think of as home, more than her own - she hesitated to knock. She looked around herself, glancing at the neighbourhood in all its tranquility. Everything was quiet. Whether it was because of something specific, Cirlun had no way of knowing, as it was still early in the day. The seadweller already considered herself far out of place, being anywhere on land, but the isolation provided a welcome sense of familiarity, however negative that seemed. She knew that Etoile would likely be worrying about her, due to how long it'd been since their agreed meeting time. But the young troll sat outside her moirail's hive with no sense of worry in _her_ thoughts. He would come find her if he wished, though she didn't mind either way. It was a relief to be above the surface, as underwater had become... almost stifling. It was hard for her to maintain a friendship with any landdweller because of her restrictions. A moiraillegiance seemed like something from a dream, but she was pouring as much time and effort into it as she possibly could. Despite how forbidden it was for her to be out of the water, she had told herself that she wouldn't let her one filled quadrant fade away. The girl also knew that a relationship held together online, with nothing but words and pictures on a screen, was doomed to fail even at the best of times. She would risk almost anything to be with Etoile, even if it meant being punished by Astril. Cirlun could defend herself well enough, though her 'mother' had never been pushed far enough as to use physical force. In her heart, the heiress understood - and her guardian knew - that the isolation she had come to regard as natural was punishment enough. She hadn't even realised that her moirail had come out of his hive to look for her and that he was rather worried-looking until he sat down beside her, his voice reaching her ears. "W><ere ><ave you been, Cirlun? I was w*rried t><at Astril ><ad kept y*u fr*m c*ming t* see me." Cirlun didn't know how to respond in a way that could validate her actions, and so she drew her arms and knees to her chest, letting the silence between them grow. She rubbed her eyes, keeping her gaze low and away from the mutantblood that she... cherished. _Loved_ felt too much of a human term, and she didn't know if she felt that strong about him, given her doubts. Within a minute of silence, she looked up at him again, feeling weaker than a grub. "I... I was just t)(inking about t)(ings, and I wasn't even sure if you'd want to s∞ me. I know t)(at you've b∞n working really )(ard on your projects lately, t)(at's all, and I didn't want to disturb you." She said this with timidity, and wanted to fade away. She felt like an invader, on land and in Etoile's life. But the mutantblood was incredibly empathetic, and wanted Cirlun to understand that he appreciated her. He was glad to have her in his life, despite the difficulties they would inevitably face. There came a padding of paws from the doorway, and Pumama - Etoile's puma lusus - weaved her way through to them. She licked them both affectionately, and Etoile smiled, helping Cirlun to stand. "*f c*urse I wanted to see y*u, Cirlun." He confirmed, opening the door to let his moirail out of the cold. As she passed into the hive, her heart felt full of warmth as well, and her thoughts no longer floated.

_Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction bought it back._


	5. ♋️ Candy Red And Books ♋️

Karkat was frustrated with his friends. Of course, the temperamental troll was nearly always angry about something in one way or another, even though he had told himself that he'd try harder and harder to calm down. Entering Sgrub had been nothing but a huge mistake, and he wished that Terezi hadn't given him the option to be leader of one of the teams in the first place. It just drew him in further. All he truly wanted was to have an opportunity to prove himself. Just one. It was all he asked.

If he hid his blood colour, he believed - so, so naively - that it would give him more of a chance. But why, then, did he cower away from the game, if it gave him what he had desired for so long? He knew that Terezi was onto him, and it concerned him, just how much the teal-blooded girl knew. More than smelling his blood colour from under his skin, of course. 

He sat at his desk, staring into the screen, its light screaming at him until his eyes hurt. His hand fell away from the mouse, and the mutant blood felt... strange. He shook, slightly, and he didn't feel as if it was due to anger. Not at all. Maybe he was going to cry. He didn't _want_ to cry, even if nobody could see him. It wasn't enough to hide, really, if he still felt awful. It made him feel almost guilty, crying. The red that dripped down his cheeks in that moment was short-lived, as he swiped at it and swallowed harshly. Karkat's thoughts swam, as angry as he had been and just as confusing, confused. Maybe he was just frustrated with himself. _That_ was somewhat more logical. 

Touching the button that allowed him to black out the blaring screen, he glanced at his recuperacoon with longing. He wanted to sleep away the utterly shitty way he felt. He wanted to seek the comfort of darkness. But he realised that his dreams would likely disturb him, even with the soothing properties of the sopor slime within. Furthermore, he had business to attend to that day, the likes of which didn't involve Trollian. Thus, he'd be left alone in his suffering. He couldn't get away. Karkat sighed, standing from his chair.

"Oh, fuck! Really? After everything I've found wrong today?"

He cursed loudly as the chair tipped over, his temper flaring. He was being... almost too sensitive, as much as he hated it. He really hated how emotional he could get, and how prone his emotions were to swinging wildly. He was just angry at the world in general, and that's how it would stay for a long time. He didn't think he'd ever really calm down, unless he actually gained self-worth or some miracle made him a higher-blood.

Neither were likely to happen any time soon.

Karkat righted the chair with a small huff, running his hand through his hair in a decidedly humanoid gesture. He felt his horns, felt how ridiculous and small they were. Maybe the others were right, calling him 'Nubs Mcshouty' or any similar variations. He sure did shout a lot, even though he knew he shouldn't, and his horns were decidedly smaller than average. He looked around his hive, feeling too cramped and claustrophobic regardless of the size of the building. It wasn't just his horns any more; he felt so small and insignificant compared to the others he knew.

Sure, Karkat had never considered himself at all obsessive with relationships, despite his extensive knowledge on the subject and love of their movies. He was feeling lonely, though, but didn't exactly want to invite anyone over. It'd be too... emotionally taxing to do so, and he really couldn't be bothered asking anyone to come over to his hive if he'd just grouch at them, much like his friends already chastised him for doing. He didn't have any of his quadrants filled yet, due to the Moiraillegiance with Gamzee coming into play when he was already in Sgrub, which he hadn't felt bothered to enter yet. He debated even leaving his friends to play the game without him. It'd fail anyway, like a lot of the things he tried did. 

He didn't want to think about what was under his skin, metaphorically or physically. He was self conscious about it, and it wasn't just because of his anger or his status as a mutantblood. He let a lot of things get the best of him, as well as letting people and trolls alike tread on him and drive him further in the dirt, and he hated that he lacked the strength needed to overcome it all. He envied Equius, in a way, due to the fact that the 'b100b100d' was strong. He was gross, sure, and sweaty, but he was the perfect Moirail for Nepeta and was impervious to practically everything life threw his way. So the other troll thought.

Karkat sat back down at his desk, though he didn't want to put the computer back on, not at all. He drummed his fingers on the surface of it, feeling fidgety. Eventually, he stood again, walking with a drag to his steps. His fingers skimmed across the books in the shelf, tapping on their spines idly. He didn't quite know what he was looking for until he found it. His fingers curled around the spine of ' _~ATH: A Handbook For The Imminently Deceased._ '

He knew that he should never have stolen it from Sollux. It was far too dangerous to just... play around with. Besides, he was too much of a novice with coding to ever consider working with ~ATH codes. But still he paced, his grip tightening on the manual, unwilling to let go. It was too much, too _precious_ to ever do that. He wanted to code something. If only to show the world that he, a mutantblood, could defeat it.

"You can't."

He told himself this after a while, starting. His voice was much louder, angrier than he'd anticipated it was going to be. He was utterly fucking _delusional,_ talking to himself out loud. But he still did it, sometimes, when the quiet became too much for him to take. Karkat was beginning to become confused, he was confusing and messing with himself too much. He didn't want to be confused. He hated being conflicted. Karkat hated a lot of things.

"Just... don't even start, Vantas."

He hissed under his breath, eyes wandering to the computer. He slowly walked towards it, his steps decisive and no longer dragging. He wanted badly to do something with the book while he still had it in his possession, before the psionic he regarded as his friend came for it. He thought that Sollux would kill him for stealing the book, and that they wouldn't be friends any more after that. He opened the book, disregarding every scribbled warning the Captor had added into the pages, written neatly in alternating red and blue inks.

He'd end up wishing he had.


	6. ♌ Tea Cups And Tenderness ♐

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nepeta and Equius have tea, muffins, and experiences.
> 
> This is longer, much longer than my average short, by the way.

arsenicCatnip [AC] began trolling centaursTesticle [CT]

AC: :33 < *ac smiles at ct, swishing her tail and waving in a welcoming meownner*

CT: D --> Hello, Nepeta.

AC: :33 < *ac pounces on ct, glad that her meowrail is here to k33p her company*

CT: D --> I am glad you are here too, you make for e%cellent company.

AC: :33 < *ac asks ct how his day is going, hoping for a pawsitive answer*

CT: D --> I must confess that I am rather lonely.

AC: :33 < *furrowning, ac asks why, dropping off his back and nuzzling his cheek comfortingly*

CT: D --> Because you are not here in person.

centaursTesticle [CT] ceased trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]

~~~~

_Equius knew that his love for the catlike troll was... morally wrong, just as his feelings for Aradia had been. To a lesser degree, yes, but to have feelings for a lowerblood of any level felt distinctly unbecoming, as did having feelings for a higherblood. He felt as if he had his place in the world, and he was determined to keep it as it was. He had feelings for no 'b100b100d', however, and thus was conflicted._

_Nepeta stared longingly at her shipping wall for periods of time, often ones that were considered troubling. She was almost obsessive, the way she cared about the more-often-than-not imaginary relationships she had constructed and displayed, displayed as her pride and joy. She cared for Equius so, so much. But she couldn't shake the careful drawing that she hid from view, the one 'ship' that she wished for more than anything. She knew that the other didn't reciprocate feelings for her, but she persisted in her daydreams nonetheless._

~~~~

The two were moirails, and they couldn't have been better for each other.

Equius was strong, strong and steady. He was a protector, and though he could come off as too strong, almost... disgusting in his ways, he loved her and wished her the best.

Nepeta was soft. She was loving, understanding and the gentlest of souls. She helped him as much as she could, and although many cringed at her fascinations, she loved him and wished him the best.

They were capable of becoming more, so much more, but the roles they held in each other's hearts and eyes was enough. It made them happy. The joy that they felt could far surpass any doubts they might have had, shatter any negativity as long as they kept close. When they were separated, they had Trollian, but it would never be enough to satisfy their need to... be with each other, to have physical closeness.

The tea had been brewed in a hopeful, happy manner, as Nepeta had thought everything was actually going to be fine, despite the encroaching gloom. Equius' comforting, warming darkness was the only one she had expected. The catlike troll was ever the optimist, however, and that would serve to help her through the next events.

"Oh no! The Purrl Grey has been on for too long! It'll taste pawful!"

She hissed, tail lashing about - as opposed to its normal gentle sway - and running to check the lilac pot with a worried expression. She couldn't believe it had been steeping so long! She was so careless. Her tail slid motionlessly across the floor, shifting only when she herself moved. She felt downcast within moments, as she had tried so hard to make everything so, so perfect for Equius in her land.

She checked for a supply of sugar in the small dwelling she had made there, as she liked her Cameowmile nice and sweet, before giggling to herself. She was going nuts, being alone, surely. She spun around, gazing at the hills and mounds of Little Cubes, her eyes bright and filled with a childlike wonder. Even though it felt like she had seen it all a million times, it never failed to amaze her time and time again.

"Silly Nepeta! Your land is made of sugar!"

Nepeta murmured to herself, walking out of her dwelling and looking around. She soon collected a basketful of sugar cubes, and bent down to the green tea river running like veins through her land. Sticking her tongue out, she looked around just in case Equius had been able to come to her land so soon. She didn't want to make a fool of herself in front of him. Happily, as she did most things, she bent over and quickly lapped at the green tea.

It was bitter, and she stuck her tongue out in disgust. She decided that she'd have to topple a whole hill worth of sugar into it later; it would give her something to do while Equius wasn't there, and it would be a lot of fun. Sweetness, as well as being sweet, really improved everything, or so she thought. She stood from the banks of the tea river, humming to herself as she licked the sticky residue of the sugar off her hands.

Skipping, she made her way back to the dwelling, humming softly. Equius would arrive at any minute, and she wanted to be there when he arrived. She was looking forward to seeing him, very much so, but also wanted to make sure that his often untameable strength didn't cause him to break the door as well. She'd worked on the small hut for a while, if only to keep her fidgety 'paws' at bay.

The troll soon arrived, beads of sweat trickling down his face relentlessly. She walked and got him a fresh white towel - those she had stocked up on for this reason alone - from the cupboard. He walked into the door of the hut, taking the towel from her. Equius almost seemed too big for the small dwelling, but Nepeta wanted it no other way. His size bought her comfort. He wiped his face gratefully, a broken-toothed smile coming to his lips.

"Thank you, Nepeta. It is good to see you."

Equius stood in the hut, looking around at the home Nepeta had made for herself. He was proud of her for doing such a thing, even though his head grazed the roof when it sloped down on occasion. Judging by her shorter-than-average size, and the fact that sugar grains crunched under their feet at every step, she had used the stackable cubes as leverage. She would have spent far more time than was necessary on the dwelling.

It made his hardened heart full with warmth and his gentle smile stay, unwavering, to know how much effort his Moirail had gone to, even if it wasn't specifically for him. She obviously had a real passion for what she was doing, and her fingers were still sticking together due to the baking she had done. She had set everything up just so, but she had been rather busy. She had only just had time to clean up a little before he came.

"Just a meowment, please, Equihiss."

Nepeta chirped, scampering off and to the little sink. She hummed some more as she washed her hands. Her short fingers saw the light for the first time in a while, as her bright blue paw-gloves nearly always obscured them from view. She had liked baking, as well as licking the bowls when she was finished, but didn't particularly enjoy washing up properly. She usually took her time with it, nonetheless, but she hurried because she wanted to get back to her blue-blooded friend.

She slipped her gloves back on, wiggling her fingers in relief. Although her skin was grey, and was already rather light in colour, her hands were noticeably more pale than the rest of her skin because of her habit of wearing them. She had dyed the tail and gloves when her moirallegiance with Equius started, wanting the blue to remind her that he was always with her, even when they were not together in person.

Soon, the troll bought the things she had baked to the small table, setting the plate of steaming hot muffins down and setting out a couple of placemats so that the teapots wouldn't scorch the table. She had left the Cameowmile to sit and cool down a little while the Purrl Grey steeped further, as Equius had told her that he liked his tea 'E%TREMELY STRONG'. She didn't want to burn her mouth, however.

It was evident that she had used too much sugar in the muffins, presumably to try and deplete the supply that was naturally given to her by the Land Of Little Cubes And Tea. She hadn't known that the supply was nearly infinite, so as to prevent sugar-based land degradation from Nepeta using it all up. She liked everything she had nearly as sweet as she was, which was copiously, overly sweet. That said, Nepeta wasn't a stuck-up, and her positivity always seemed to be genuine.

She padded over to the long-brewed tea, bringing it over to the table and setting it down after pouring a cup for Equius. She had reinforced the cup somehow so that he wouldn't crush it, and the tea was piping hot. She had even added some of Arthour's milk to it, as Equius had bought it over with him. He said it kept his bones strong, and she didn't doubt it, but she thought to herself that he didn't need any more calcium. He was already too strong for his own good, and for others'.

Nepeta cherished him and appreciated him far more than most, despite his almost debilitating strength and his sweating problems. There were a lot of negatives to Equius, but most tended to forget about him completely. She had reason to believe that he was seen in a negative light by most of the other trolls that bothered to acknowledge his existence, and considered that extremely unfair. Even Vriska seemed to dislike him, and Aradia hold the blue blood in her robotic veins against him, even though he had done them a courtesy and replaced their body or body parts.

They talked over tea and muffins, and joy radiated from the two trolls. They had never shown such happiness unless they were together, and even then Equius had been... apprehensive about his feelings for Nepeta. In this small hut in an expanse of sugar, they had found cause to believe that they truly were moirails, and that they were perfect for each other. The guardian and the helper, the stoic and the empathetic.

Equius soon left, his hands clutching a basketful of muffins, the likes of which Nepeta absolutely insisted he take. She claimed that she couldn't eat them all herself, but he knew that it was a lie, and simply an excuse to share what she had made for him. It was lighthearted, and she watched him go with a small and satisfied smile lighting up her cheeks. Nepeta knew that she had made him happy, and that, in turn, made her the most gleeful troll in the whole of Alternia.

But that had been long ago.

Almost too long.

~~~~~~~~~~~

So, they sat together in the darkened lab, stoves and long-cold teapots providing a barrier to what lay beyond. The two had sought shelter from him as soon as they could, sought one another because they knew it would be even colder without that comfort. The two would have liked to meet like this in a more positive setting, but that was not to be. The time of tea and piping-hot muffins in a land of sugar was long gone. It was likely that they'd never experience such a thing ever again as long as they were trapped.

The clown was lurking in the cloaking dark, and that was terrifying to them both, but Equius didn't move a muscle as Nepeta shivered against him. His role in the moiraillegiance was to guard her to his dying breath, and to have an unwavering resolution and stoicism in the face of danger. He would fulfil that role to the best of his ability. However strong he was, when a distant smashing of a bottle was heard, Equius' fingers tightened around the wood of the bow that he held, and a crack rang out.

"Do not worry, Nepeta."

He murmured, feeling the troll flinch against his body from where she was curled, obviously scared out of her mind. Aside from this, he hadn't felt her move in a while. He thought it had been a long time, though he had no way of knowing. Equius had thought her dead, for she had become literally petrified with fright for some time earlier. Although he hated it, it was a relief to feel her shivering form. It was movement, at least.

He had left her sore in the back from his hugs many a time, and did not want to risk such a thing happening ever again, especially due to his moirail's emotional fragility. She already suffered so much, particularly in their current situation. A broken back would likely kill Nepeta, as she had not - and would not - gain the abilities and immortality that came with the highly coveted ascension to God Tier.

"I am here, and I will not let anything happen to you for as long as I live."

Equius spoke, though he expected no reply. He knew that she was feeling far too weak to even gain the energy to do so. All he had to go on, all the signs that she lived, were her wheezing breaths, and the gentle shudder of her every limb. He himself was fighting the urge to close his eyes, to slip into the comfort of fading away. The void that he held called to him louder and louder until it was a deafening roar in his ears, though he had no voices in his head as Sollux had.

The goldblood had never interacted with him, and he found that better than if he had. Equius was a troll who had followed the hemospectrum closely for all of his sweeps of life, and had thus forbidden himself from interacting with Sollux and his lowblooded... breed. Power didn't matter to him, though he was so fixated on his own, and paid no mind to the boy's psionic prowess, nor his hacking skills. He wasn't self-absorbed, and he cared for those who cared for him, or that he felt he could trust.

One of the few people he felt he could trust was slowly, agonisingly dying against his body. Her breathing was so shallow that it became barely noticeable, and her chest barely moved. He provided her with all the warmth that he could, but had no idea if his efforts would be enough to save her. It was safer, he decided, for him to let her... he couldn't. He couldn't even think of the word. His Nepeta, dying. It was... preposterous. But it was better for her to fade in his arms than to die fighting that horrid, maniacal clown.

Equius brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his hands finally beginning to tremble. He didn't want her to die, even more than he feared death himself. He'd been lonely for so, so long. He'd finally pushed all that away and embraced his relationship with her, and he wanted to be safe and happy. With her. His stubbornness was a big downside when it came to socialising, but he refused to let her go even now, and it was sad that they were closest when she was so far away. He'd have his revenge, sure, but wanted to stay by her side until her very last breath.

She breathed it all too soon, and for the first time in his life, he felt a tear slip down his cheek.


	7. ♒ Etching In The Sand ♓

They had decided to meet up on the surface, oblivious to the dangers they might have encountered. They both had their strife specibi filled, and the fact that they were highbloods lended them authority. They were naturally resistant to a lot more, as well, and lived for much longer than most other trolls. Eridan and Feferi, the two highest on the hemospectrum, were largely forgotten. 

Due to their ingrained tendencies to be violent, or prone to snapping, Eridan was not the best to be around, as he could get aggressive or easily irritated at the least. Feferi fought herself, fought her blood and the genes twisting in her every molecule. She didn't want to be like him, or like Gamzee, she desired peace and tranquility and equality for all of her citizens. She wanted to try and help her violetblooded friend 'clam' himself down, no matter what it would take.

Feferi's laughter rang out as they talked on the golden beach, and Eridan thought it one of the most pleasant sounds in the world. She was so happy with him. She couldn't help but feel her heart bloom with appreciation for him. Every moment they spent together was precious to her. After a while, however, the violetblood's mouth twisted into a frown. The fins on the side of his head twitched, and he cupped his hands over them.

"Fef, you're hurtin' my ears a little."

He complained, though the other knew it was as good-natured as possible. Sure, he wasn't exactly the most sociable troll, or the greatest to be around in a general sense, but Feferi enjoyed her time with him nonetheless. He wasn't as... desperate around her, now that she had filled out one of his quadrants, which she counted as a general bonus on both her part and his. She looked at him with a shark-toothed grin, reaching out to play with his scarf.

"Whale, stop complaining so much, Eri-fin! Reely, sometimes I wonder how you can find so many negative comments!"

The empress-to-be replied after a while, though her voice was light and joking as she scolded him. She just thought him silly most of the time, and didn't think much of his complaints unless they were serious. Feferi was patient, and growing up with Eridan had helped her relationship with him steadily grow. She admired him. Despite everything, she admired the other's tenacity, or what tenacity he thought he had.

Feferi then let go of his scarf after a while of fidgeting with it good-naturedly, leaving it slightly askew. She hadn't intended to mess it up, of course, but she did. Before she could reach out to fix it for her Moirail, he cleared his throat and fixed it himself, his expression betraying nothing of his thoughts. When he next spoke, his tone was flat and rather unamused. He didn't like how she talked to him some days; although she was higher than him, her words often felt almost patronising, regardless of their true intent.

"Why? I'm not that bad, Fef. I don't complain _that_ much."

He protested her comment, although he truly had no evidence to prove his point. He did complain quite a bit, despite that he thought Feferi was being unreasonable to say so. He fixed his cape, as one side of the collar was folded in. He did this to distract himself. Anything, anything to keep him from looking up at the fuchsiablood. He thought she looked down on him. Eridan got out one of his so-called 'science wwands', drawing idly in the sand. He wasn't that bad an artist, but his lines were sketchy and hesitant. 

She watched, enraptured and silent as he drew in the sand, that simple moment meaning so much to her. The only noise that could be heard was their soft breathing, which they had both synced up unknowingly. That he was with her, moirail or not, was amazing. She was most likely one of the only other trolls who accepted Eridan for who he was. Although he was arrogant, show-offish and could be bitter, she liked him no matter what. He had never shown such a talent, not even to her, although she was his sole confidante in the world they inhabited.

"Maybe you aren't, Eri-fin, maybe you aren't."

Feferi replied, subconsciously repeating what she had said for emphasis. She didn't know what the violetblood was drawing, exactly, but he was very absorbed in his task, and had even took off his cape and scarf so that they didn't sweep at the sand. He smiled up at her after a few minutes, though he kept his mouth shut and didn't disclose the information she wanted to know so badly. She wanted to know why he was so concentrated on this simple sketch. It was fated to be blown away and disturbed by the wind, or trodden on by other pairs of feet carrying happy pairs of trolls.

"What are you drawing, Eridan?"

Eridan wasn't quite sure himself. Why he was sketching and drawing so much, with such care, if he knew it would all be destroyed in time was a mystery. He felt as if he had started something and it would be a disappointment to let it all go, to scuff over it and forget. He had no plans as to what the drawing would become, either, and let his wand decide where to take his hand. The other way around simply wouldn't have worked. It would mostly be a dissappointment to Feferi, which he wanted to avoid when possible. 

"I don't know, Fef... what do _you_ want it to be?"

Eridan asked, but resumed his drawing nonetheless. He didn't seem to have had any ideas as to what it would be moments earlier, but then he did. His strokes in the sand became more confident, even though they didn't get any faster. He was being careful, and even stood up, bent over in part as he expanded his work. His feet barely touched the sand, in order not to decimate the careful border that he had carved into the golden grains. He made diamonds along the edges of the artwork, careful lines curving only where necessary.

"Well, it's your artwork, I think. You can choose what it can be."

Her reply was soft to his ears from where she had moved over, closer to the shore. The waves weren't crashing down, and the moonlight shone in gentle silvery rays to illuminate the sand where the two trolls stood, apart - to an extent - for the first time in hours, having relished their closeness and stretched it as long as they possibly could. She looked up to him. She really did, despite the fact that he could be rather disagreeable at times.

Feferi had since gathered up his cloak and striped scarf from the ground. She didn't want them to get sandy, especially not his carefully knitted scarf. Although he had many just like it, this one was special because she herself had knitted it for him. Nobody else would know how special it was to Eridan except for he himself. She knew that he had liked it initially, and that it was slightly thinner in her fingers because he had worn it so much. But she didn't know the significance held across the time they had shared.

Hours had passed as he worked in almost complete silence, save for Feferi's lilting and comfortingly familiar voice encouraging him, pushing him to further efforts than he had ever expected to go. He didn't mind just listening to her voice and the natural sounds that surrounded him, as it soothed him while he would have otherwise been a lot more stressed about making it perfect. It had taken him quite a while to make Feferi comfortable with the idea of being his Moirail in the first place, due to the fact that he wasn't exactly... innocent.

She had learnt quickly, learnt to forget.

But they were happy together, and that's how he hoped it would stay. After a few adjustments, a few lines and swept sand piles later, he was finished. Stepping back from the art, he gazed at a large portrait. It was of himself, as expected, but he had drawn a certain fuchsiablood beside him. At a closer look, the two seadwellers in the piece were holding hands and smiling, and the diamond border remained. Eridan looked over at Feferi, grinning and taking her hand in an uncharacteristically gentle gesture.

"No, it's ours."


	8. ♊ Two, One, Zero ♒

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beyond-black // Beyond-pitch Erisol

Sollux Captor was tired of dying. He'd done it so many times, too many for his liking. Prospit, Derse, half, half again, resurrection, death, whatever. He had lost track of how many times he'd met his demise. It was a privelege that he and his dancestor alone had, possessing two dream selves. It'd all just been thrown to the winds. The fate of the dream moons was unfortunate, and he'd never really had a good night's sleep in the first place, what with the cacophony of voices in his ears. He'd adjusted to it in time, but that didn't make it any better.

He - and the rest of the trolls - really owed their lives to Feferi, however ironic it was that they were technically dead. An existence in the dream bubbles was enough, and he craved her company as well. She was just... bright and bubbly, and kept them all positive even through the hardest of times. As a Mage of Doom, he was quite the pessimist, but a smile forced itself onto his lips whenever she did her best to cheer them up. He thought of the Condesce for a moment, and wondered how it was possible that she was descended from such a tyrant.

His eyes, hollowed and blackened unlike those of his friends and fellow trolls, swept across the landscape in front of him. The deadened white that the others' held made for staring as vacant as his own had been. He knew that his real eyes - the dichotomy of red and blue, the colours that had dictated his life beyond the yellow of his blood - had made him rather blank-looking, as they didn't let in emotion as much as normal ones would. He hated that, and didn't want to come off as cold as he was. 

Sollux was a bit of an asshole at times, and he wasn't going to attempt to deny that. It was a blatant fact, really, especially when it came to a certain violetblood. Eridan got on his nerves, and it wasn't just because of the fact he'd been knocked out at one point in a 'very poorly executed a22a22iinatiion attempt' by the seadweller. The amount of times he had been asked to fill Eridan's black quadrant was yet another thing he couldn't keep track of in his head. He held off, simply because he knew it'd hurt Eridan more than filling it.

The troll _was_ friends with Karkat, though, and so his eyes finally landed on the disguised mutantblood after a while of searching. It was a relief to see a familiar face in the crowd, and one that looked mildly disgruntled was better than none. Karkat could be rather brash at times, he knew that much, and he was relieved to see that the other hadn't died. As harsh as that sounded, it was the truth. He wanted silence, not that he ever got it, but as much silence as was possible, so he waited for someone to approach him to talk rather than the other way around.

His mind began to wander when no one approached him for a few minutes, and his thoughts strayed to those about his hive, and how he had left it, for all he knew, abandoned. Sollux didn't know if he'd ever get back there, especially because of the looming threat of death in its finality, as strange and as novel as that seemed to someone like him. He was like a cat, but with not quite as many lives to spare. He had no idea if the workers in his beehouses were dead or not. Although he no longer needed the mind honey to feed his Biclops lusus, it still worried him.

His lusus had been an extremely important part of his life for as long as he could remember. Sure, he had to feed it the mind honey to keep him from being as much of an idiot as he would normally feel inclined to be. It had been quite the task to get the mind honey to him, and in some ways Sollux was almost glad to be free of him. Additionally, it made for two extra heads to feed. As a lowblood, Sollux had often encountered problems to do with money, or gaining things in a more general sense. Though not a big problem, it was irritating.

He hated that he was belittled because of the colour of his blood, even if he wasn't as low as Karkat - who proved to be one of his best friends - or Tavros, who suffered even more due to his movement issues. He could sympathise with those lower than him on the dreaded hemospectrum as much as he liked. That didn't change that he was rather well off regardless of being mustardblooded. He was a largely gifted psionics user, and had hacking skills that were unparalleled in the whole of Alternia.

He waved to Karkat, though wasn't exactly sure whether or not the Knight of Blood had seen him do so. His thoughts whirled even though the voices were quieter, and he wanted some kind of a distraction. The droning in his ears had become all but a nuisance, as they didn't bother him any more. He was busy enough to block them out mostly, though they were louder and louder and became impossible to ignore most of the time, however much he tried. It was just an inevitability, and an eventuality.

When Eridan approached Sollux instead, the man's obnoxious, loud voice carrying all the way to his ears, he tensed. He was on the other side of the room, and even though that put a considerable amount of space between them, that was hardly enough. _Not thii2 guy. Plea2e, II don't want to deal wiith hiim._ He thought this immediately afterwards, a small frown coming to his lips. Though they were just thoughts, he would have liked to express them. He thought it best not to in case the Ampora or any of the royal's friends overheard. 

"Pii22 off, Eriidan."

He muttered these three simple words loud enough for only Eridan to hear, delighted to see that the seadweller's otherwise confident stride had faltered for a few moments. He didn't want Eridan to be anywhere near him, and he intended to make that clear enough that even the stupidest troll could understand it - one similar to Eridan in Sollux's eyes. Sure, it was unbecoming of the two to interact in the first place, as each had their role, but they were clearly black for each other to some degree. 

Sollux hated Eridan beyond kismesitude some days, but he didn't want to say this at all, lest he was forced to actually fill a quadrant with the other. His relationships weren't to be wasted, especially since he was an incredibly doomed individual, and he did consider Eridan a complete waste of space, time and energy. For this reason, he didn't say or react any more to the seadweller, deeming that the best course of action. He instead left, going as far away from the other as possible.

He hadn't known what Eridan was doing after that, and just how sensitive the seadweller had been to his short but unquestionably harsh comment. Unbeknownst to Sollux, the troll had been armed to the teeth as always, but he had even gone so far this time as to employ methods beyond his 'WWhite Sciences'. Though deadly in their own right, and believed to have been bestowed to him by the fearsome 'angels' of his land, they were hardly enough to deal with what he desired, in his eyes clouded by a violet-coloured rage.

He pulled out his bicoloured husktop, humming happily to himself as he opened Trollian. He wanted to get his friend's attention, as Karkat had never responded to his waving or other gestures, and he needed to glean some kind of relief from the mutantblood's familiar presence. Even if 'kk' talked his ears off or made him go entirely deaf - as well as his fated blindness - it remained so much better than being around Eridan for any sort of extended period of time. Over time, his hatred only grew.

However fast Sollux could have typed, it wouldn't be fast enough. And he typed fast, due to the immense length of some of the codes that he made or typed out, especially owing to the ~ATH codes that he, and only he, had the expertise and control to use. The bright blue-white beam of Ahab's Crosshairs arced through the barely-lit room, streaking past every other bewildered troll to reach its true target. Karkat hadn't had the time to even run over to his mustardblooded friend before the laser hit Sollux square in the chest. 

Sollux Captor was tired of dying, and he'd finally be laid to rest.


	9. ∞ Ruler ∞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !SLIGHT GORE WARNING!

"I wis)( t)(at I could be t)(ere wit)( t)(em. I could argue t)(at my fate, being stuck in t)(is cod dam violet )(ive, is so muc)( worse t)(an t)(eir dead session. As wrong as I'd be, it'd make for conversation... t)(oug)(, I doubt any of t)(em would agree wit)( me on t)(e subject. I'm a spoilt brat, and I s)(ould know t)(at I )(ave absolutely no rig)(t to say anyt)(ing on t)(e subject, but I'm just so, so sick of everyt)(ing. Posessing no freedom turns out to become more stifling t)(an it seems at a first glance. I )(ave everyt)(ing I could ever want, except for freedom."

She grumbled as she stared at the blackened screen of her husktop, a cleaning cloth clutched between her fingers as she rubbed at it. Cirlun was often prone to such rambles, especially when she was feeling isolated. Of course, she felt this way constantly, as she _was_ isolated from the majority of civilization. Her Trollian didn't even have any contacts on it yet. She was cleaning the screen of her husktop because dust had settled on it, due to the fact that she really had no use for it if her Trollian contact list was empty. She preferred the proper books in the library when it came to research.

She sighed softly, the noise barely moving past her lips at all. Cirlun knew that she'd never be able to meet the expectations that had been placed upon her, and she intended to rewrite and reform those rules and expectations when she ascended to the throne. It was only right. She couldn't live up to what the world intended, so she knew that she had to make the change. For now, she'd be doomed to suffer in silence. And that was how it had always, always been. Her intent to change would have to wait until she worked up the courage to...  
  
She couldn't even think of killing Astril. The mere notion was upsetting, especially because she was so young. It felt immoral. The violet dyed across the fabrics of the hive, visible at her every twist and turn, was important to her. Although she loathed her advisor, in essence, and all-too-commonly felt hatred strong enough to drive her to murder, she didn't. Not yet. The thought was always in the back of her mind, as much as she protested her fated ascensions. She didn't want to commit matricide at all, as the violet blood - and memories of the violetblood - would stain her conscience for the rest of her sweeps.

It was Cirlun's fate, though, and she couldn't argue with that. She knew that the day would come wherein she was forced to kill her advisor to take the throne and lead her subjects into a new era of prosperity. Her hands shook now, that much was clear, and it scared her beyond anything else she'd ever had to experience. The thought of killing Astril haunted her, just as the woman's soulless, rage-filled ghost would undoubtedly do the same. She cleaned the screen in front of her, swallowing harshly as she felt vomit rising in her throat. All she could do was choke it down and continue.

So she did, with no regards to the dark, looming thoughts that plagued and threatened to consume her. Her eyes then swept to the book on the desk beside her, a small frown etching itself onto her lips within seconds. She was overthinking everything. The stain on the cover wasn't even purple, but her thoughts wandered. Old blood could fade to brown, she realised, and that was the colour of the mark on ' _Doomed - Stories of the Third Earth_ ' _._ It, of course, was just one of the many expansive books she was utilising to study the sessions of Earth A, B and C, though that one focused on Earth C.

Envy wreathed around her. Oh, how she wished to be there. She wanted to live with the trolls that were recounted in those pages, the ones that were yellowing with age. She traced the writing on the page that she read, noting the script that she knew very well. They had written using the quirks they donned to distinguish each other on Trollian, the very same program that lay open on her husktop. She knew that she had no contacts on it, but didn't bother. The twelve trolls had their own legacies, and that was one thing she'd never had - and would never have - herself.

She had no idea that Eridan, Gamzee, Feferi - her own role model in a different time - and the rest of the twelve were still 'alive', of course, due to the ageing that appeared on their 'first-hand' accounts. The books had been enchanted ten times over so that any hope the young heiress might have had was appropriately and immediately crushed. She had seen the Amporas at meetings, of course, but had shied away from the aristocrats at every opportunity she had. In the meetings, she was always insignificant and unnoticed anyway.

She traced her finger over the script of the famed ceruleanblood Vriska Serket, whose eight-dominated writing style she had learned to decipher as easily as reading normal Alternian scripts. It was easy enough to get used to, in any case, as it was simplistic. She had noticed that she had adopted a sort of 'quirk' that she was going to use in her own Trollian-type, a part of which was unintentionally similar to Feferi's. She muttered the words as she read, and she stayed in a trance-like state of reading through the dust-coated tome for hours.

As she read and muttered to herself, though, her thoughts darkened even further, causing her to rub her eyes in irritation and close the book. Her mindset had completely and utterly shifted for the worse. For the better of herself, and herself alone. She realised just how much was being kept from her, and rage began to take control of her actions. Finally, her fuchsiablooded tendencies of anger were awakening, and her treatment at the hands of her advisor would only serve to foster that nature. She stood, fists so tightly furled that they cut into her palms.

Cirlun had realised that she was only going to suffer if Astril took the throne any longer. She hadn't wanted to kill Astril a few hours ago, but that had changed. Everything was going to change if she had her say in the matter. She would. Within a mere second, she had donned her hunting outfit. Her specibus bubble wand was in her hand, and when she blew one, the large, golden double-edged trident was contained within it. With a satisfied smirk crawling onto her lips, she took it and slotted it into its place in the back sheathe.

When she did this, she noted with a sadistic glee the way the gold arced through the light and caught it in flashes so bright it could blind. She'd do far worse than blind, of course. She'd make her 'mother' pay for the pain she had caused. Her breathing was heavy but her steps made no sound against the floor as she moved, light and quick as a shadow. Cirlun could slip away into virtually nothing, due to knowing every shadow and shade in the library. Her isolation had paid off, as she knew every escape.

Many were to be found in the expanse of the palace, and she was grateful now for each and every one. The trident remained in its sheathe. Her snarling lips revealed sharklike teeth that she only possessed due to the fact she was a seadweller. Her eyes swept around, pupils narrowed, seeing everything as if the darkness wasn't beginning to fall. It'd be no fun, she decided, if she were to murder in the dark. That wasn't what she wanted. She wanted each and every seadweller she'd rule over to fear her. 

Her tyranny was only the start of the ruination, though. She hadn't forgotten what she had to do. How much she had to mould and shape into her own. Violet _sickened_ her. She tore down every draping, every banner, every decoration with the colour of the rest of the seadwellers. The only way she would like the colour was when she smeared it down the walls and marked the murder and the rise of the new empress both. Humming gleefully, far too brightly for what she was going to do, she approached the hall, stepping out into broad light.

"Your comeupance gr∞ts you now and forever, mot)(er."

She hissed, eyes dark and full of hatred for the being in front of her. She knew that Astril wouldn't reply; the Empress was far too busy herself doing whatever she needed to do. Her kingdom would be swept up into chaos soon. A soft laugh came from Cirlun's lips, and she walked up to her mother. One thing she had learnt that was different from other trolls was her use - or overuse - of decidedly human mannerisms. For this reason, she embraced her 'mother', hugging her and pinning the royal's arms to her side.

"It is so g∞d to see you, as always, Astril."

She muttered, her voice sweet as syrup. It had always been that way when she had addressed the Empress, and she didn't see why it had to change. She felt the royal stiffen under her arms, and she frowned in faux alarm. Nothing was wrong, surely? She then changed to massaging Astril's tense shoulders gently, her smile remaining as she dug her nails into the flesh of her shoulders. Cirlun's nails gouged into it, and Astril made a muffled sound of discomfort. That was all. She thought nothing of it.

"Relax. All of your stress can melt away. I'll take care of everyt)(ing, and you don't need to move a muscle."

She placed her trident at her side, taking a few deep, slow and calming breaths. She was by no means calm, and wouldn't be for quite a while, but she did it to help herself concentrate more than anything else. Cirlun continued to make her maternal guardian feel as comfortable and pampered as possible in that short amount of time. She didn't want to make her mother's last moments bad ones, as it meant she'd just be an annoyance later on, or her screams would attract more attention. Cirlun bought her trident to the woman's throat quickly.

"I'd rat)(er you didn't move at all."

A quick slash, and that was it.


	10. ♎ Guillotine ♎

Terezi was a woman of law. She knew what was right and what was wrong, most of the time, and she could smell a red herring from miles away. She didn't need her eyesight to tell her that. Her dragon-headed cane, the one that concealed deadly blades, hung loosely at her side. Terezi was too busy addressing the court, by which she was arguing with her scalemates in her hive, all alone. She ignored the insistent buzzing of her friend's notifications on Trollian. She had much more important issues to address. She thought that her buddies would know that by now. They knew how seriously she took her work, and had aspirations akin to Karkat’s strong will to be a Threshecutioner. Terezi willed for the building of justice, as well as her need to perform it.

She glared at the plush dragon who was all too guilty, detesting the snivelling fool in front of her nose. Her glasses did nothing to obscure the blind hatred with which she looked at the simple toy. The tealblood knew, however innocent they pleaded, they were guilty of much more than just crime. The noose hanging from the tree outside her windows was free of blood and plush-guts, and ready to be stained once more in the name of highest justice. Her steps were slow and deliberately so as she circled her prey. She paid no mind to the fact that the scalemate wasn’t a real being, let alone a troll. Any plush or toy, any friend or foe, was real enough when they turned out to be a victim of Terezi’s judgement. She sniffed the air, wrinkling her nose after.

"YOUR D3C13T ST1NKS, S3N4TOR L3MONSNOUT. 1'LL BR1NG YOU TO JUST1C3. 4S 4LW4YS."

Terezi growled, her voice low and dripping with a quiet venom. It could be considered ridiculous how seriously she could take her court games, just how many plushes she had destroyed at her whims, but she wished for nothing else. Terezi wasn't phased by the harsh comments she received on that front, and never intended to let them get to her, as she knew how much enjoyment she gleaned from doing such things. It was training to become a legislacerator in her eyes, anyway. It was her sworn duty to protect the world she lived in from wrongdoing. She knew that no one else, not even Latula, would rise to the challenge of bringing those who needed it to their rightful place. Though it was a one-troll justice system, It was more than enough for her.

“1T’S 4 SH4M3. YOU COULD H4V3 B33N 4 V4LU4BL3 4SS3T TO TH3 COURT, H4D YOU NOT B3TR4Y3D M3 SO BR4Z3NLY. DO YOU F1N4LLY W4NT TO PUSH 4W4Y YOUR COW4RD1C3, TO 4DM1T YOUR WRONGDO1NG? DO YOU R34L1S3 4ND W1SH TO STAND UP 4G41NST TH3 COURT’S WORDS, THOUGH 1T WOULD B3 INCR3D1BLY 1N4DV1S4BL3 TO DO SO?”

The toy, of course, made no effort to reply. Tensions were thick in the air nonetheless, and Terezi narrowed her dulled red eyes at the dragon who she couldn't see. She muttered under her breath, her fingers twining together and unlacing as her brain worked. She debated whether she should get another, fresher noose, to give her latest charge a gentler passing, even though he had committed many, many crimes against her and the rest of her friends. She was mulling over what knot to tie, which would be the most secure. She ran her fingers along the careful stitching - courtesy of Kanaya - around Lemonsnout’s stomach and neck. The dragon had escaped her so many times, regardless of how many stitches she felt. It infuriated her, and she longed to condemn them to the gallows once and for all. 

“TH3S3 ST1TCH3S W1LL NOT L4ST MUCH LONG3R. B3 GR4T3FUL FOR WH4T L1TTL3 T1M3 1’M G1V1NG YOU, THOUGH 1 TH1NK 1T 1S F4R TOO MUCH. S4Y YOUR GOODBY3S, 4ND B3 QUICK 4BOUT 1T B3FOR3 I MAK3 YOU S1GHTL3SS. CONS1D3R, NOW, TH3 P41N 1T BR1NGS M3 B3FOR3 YOU F33L 1T. 1 KNOW TOO W3LL TH4T YOU DO NOT C4R3 FOR SUCH TH1NGS, BUT 4LLOW M3 MY HOLLOW HOP3S.”

She muttered this, sorrow lacing her tone, the likes of which was barely contained beneath a seething anger. Her emotional response was somewhat… unbecoming, considering the fact that she was directing it towards the condemned. Terezi forced her sadness down into her body, away from her eyes that threatened to spill tears. She was gifted in hiding such things, knowing very well that she wouldn’t be able to show such empathy, a recognition for her own suffering and others, if she were to command the gallows. Clearing her throat, the tealblood narrowed her sharp gaze down at the dragon, all traces of sadness and emotion swept away within an instant. It was frightening, almost, just how quickly it had happened. Terezi had clearly had practice.

Her fingers curled tighter around the head of her cane, and she raised her head, calling loud enough that the entire court would be able to hear her. They would have been, anyway, had there been a court with functioning ears. The pile of stuffed animals before her were capable of giving her no true input, and it was only up to her imagination to decide, within reason, whether the defendant was guilty or innocent. The dragons were all grouped by scent and taste. As gross as it had seemed, though she knew that the materials that her friends inside her hive had not been made of tasty things, she licked them all anyway. She had discovered, rather quickly, that none tasted nice at all. She had sorted them due to scent anyway, having been able to smell their true colours. Not the ones their scales were at all.

“TH3 COURT M4Y D1SP3RS3 FOR 4 BR13F R3C3SS WH1L3 TH3 D3F3ND4NT S4YS TH31R GOODBY3S.”

She announced, dragging her fingers down her face afterwards in a tired gesture. Her voice once more rung loud and clear, and it wasn’t obvious at all that there had been any sadness. The choking feeling, the welling of tears, it was all… distant. However ridiculous it seemed that the Pyrope was getting worked up over a fictional court case, it felt real to her. Though her blindness did little to set her back in the world she was born to, she still felt like the hive-based, plush courtroom mimics were her only chance. Doubts were heavy in her mind at all times, despite her intense longing for the title of legislacerator. She had worked for all of her six sweeps, worked hard. She had no need for troll-braille, but still felt self-conscious whenever she went to the bookhive with her sightless gaze.

A huff passed her lips, her fingers still at work. She seemed only to be fidgeting, but she had decided on her verdict within mere moments. Terezi was simply preparing herself for the undoubted struggle that her victim would put up when she took them to be hung. She would make sure that the yellow plush didn’t escape her clutches ever again, and was mulling once again over the knot that she’d tie. Her eyes swept to her defenceless defendant, a small and coy smile gracing her expression that had seemed so morose, so reluctant a mere moment ago. Though she couldn’t see them, she sensed their fear as quickly as any other troll would see a cowering face. The troll’s training had paid off in that trial, and it had done so infallibly once more. Terezi began to unpick the stitches, letting her prey ‘bleed out’, leaning closer. Her voice was a hiss in their unhearing ears.

“L3MONSNOUT, LOY4L S3N4TOR TO PYRALSP1T3 ONLY, YOU H4V3 B33N FOUND GUILTY, GUILTY 4S CH4RG3D.”


	11. ♉ Monsters ♉

Tavros Nitram was a pathetic troll, but he could dream. He knew that everyone looked down on him, and he hated it. It made him feel worse than he already did about himself. Not even Rufioh could help him, some days, as he fell deeper and deeper into an all-consuming sadness. Gamzee’s messages, asking for silly and ear-hurting rap battles, asking him about Fiduspawn - even though Tavros knew the clown wouldn’t understand the things he explained - were left unanswered. He had little motivation to do anything, let alone something that might well bring about yet more discrimination. It wasn’t his fault that he was confined to a wheelchair, nor that he was just a bronzeblood. As if his life wasn’t hard enough, nobody liked him much. He yearned for friendship.

The bronzeblood had done his best to fulfil the role he had been given, though he knew it was too little. He tried to do a lot of things, and did them well, but nobody seemed to acknowledge what he did unless it became necessary. The only exception was when it became somehow beneficial to them in turn. He felt utterly useless. Even though his animal-control powers were useful, the other trolls around him thought it only a gimmick. Though his abilities were strong, and he could manipulate even strong beings such as GCat, it left much to be desired. The stronger his abilities, the more susceptible he was to control himself. Ceruleanbloods, as far as he knew, had troll-control, as Aranea had controlled Gamzee, and he had been controlled by Vriska herself. It terrified him. He needed security, friendship and a lot of assistance, none of which he had.

He had tried for all his sweeps to grow stronger, to prove that he was actually capable of being known as more. More was what he wanted, but he knew he’d never have. Tavros was simply too low on the Hemospectrum to amount to anything much. Despite his ‘magic’, Tavros was left very vulnerable to the influence of others. He wasn’t very outgoing, either, which made it even harder for him to get by. He knew that no one would want to help him, and his only friend - Gamzee - was usually so… drunk, in his own state of needing to be cared for, that he wouldn’t be any help. The only person who could help him, he believed, was Vriska, and she seemed to want a kismesitude with him some days. He didn’t want to say that he hated her, or loved her, but feelings of… some description always stirred in him when she was nearby.

”i, COULD HAVE BEEN, HER mATESPRIT,,,”

Tavros muttered aloud, alone in his hive as always. He would have settled for moirails, even. He could have talked to Gamzee, sure, but he didn’t want to disturb the highblood. He felt like he was a burden to his friends, and it was not likely that it - Tavros’ viewpoint of himself - would change any time soon due to his very poor self-esteem. He sat in his chair, up against a wall to stop himself from rolling about without anyone to help. It was a pain, being paraplegic, but it couldn’t have been helped. He wasn’t regretful of his FLARPing adventures in the slightest, as they had provided an experience a rustblood like himself would never have dreamed of.He had found his place, he thought, when he had been there and FLARPing. The trolls he had considered his friends were mainly Vriska and Gamzee, both of whom had FLARPed with him.

Bending down - slowly - to scoop some Fiduspawn cards from the floor, he realised that he couldn’t quite reach them in his chair. Fiduspawn, too, was one of his many hobbies, though others thought he was a giant nerd for playing it. It had been a passion of his for many a sweep, and he had no intention of ever giving it up, because of how happy it made him feel. Sure, with his natural abilities, he knew that he could just make any animal his friend, but it made him feel guilty and wasteful. He had always hated riding any animal he communed with, as it felt like he was taking advantage of the creature instead of guiding it. He exhaled in a soft sigh of frustration, rolling to face the unkempt pile of strewn cards on the floor. He rolled cautiously onto his front wheels, careful not to tip over as he bent down a little further, pain sparking through his whole body.

“oUCH,,,”

Tavros stammered, his voice quiet but obviously pained. He rolled back up to the wall and straightened in his wheelchair, shuddering with the strain of having bent in such a way. His eyes drooped from the fatigue. Everything was burning. He had no idea of the fate that he’d face when his group fled to the Veil, and could only dream of the robotic legs that Equius would make for him. He groaned quietly, having to force his eyes to remain open. With jerking movements, obviously unstable, he rolled himself over to his desk. He needed to get help, and that meant getting support. He knew that there was only one troll who would listen to him and come to assist him as such a time. Aradia was another possibility, but she actually scared him to some degree. She was out of the question. In addition, he had no idea where she was. Nobody really did, as she was a mystery.

Tavros flinched as a few slow, dragging knocks on the door of his respiteblock signalled the arrival of somebody. He was beginning to panic, as he hadn’t filled his strife specibus yet. The lance he used beforehand was somewhere else in paradox space, being used by someone else entirely. He didn’t know this, though. He glanced around, as much as his drooping eyes had allowed him before they widened in fear. The knocks repeated a few times, somehow more insistent even though they were slower. The troll outride the door, whoever it was, didn’t bother to speak, which made his heart skip a beat. He backed - rolled, rather - away from the door, aware of the fact that it was a discourteous thing to do, but not caring much. He’d rather be safe than dead or terrified. Finally, after a moment, a reassuringly familiar voice called out.

“TaV-bRo, CaN yOu OpEn ThE dOoR?”

It was the clown, sure enough. Guilt wreathed Tavros in that moment, as he hadn’t responded to any of Gamzee’s messages, and thus left the purpleblood hanging. It was bad of him, and the regret made itself known as a flush adorned his cheeks. He rolled to the door, carefully and slowly doing so because fatigue was starting to take over once again. After his initial fright waking him up a little, tiredness threatened to swamp him for the second time in that short period. He kept silent, mainly because of the fact his throat was rendering every attempt Tavros made to speak utterly inaudible. The rustblood didn’t have the loudest voice in the first place, but this was a few notches below that. He decided that he didn’t want to tell his friend about the pain, not wanting to trouble or inconvenience him. He opened the door, a trembling smile coming to his lips.

“uHH, HEY gAMZEE,,, IT’S GOOD TO SEE YOU,,, WHY’D YOU COME OVER?”

Tavros muttered, rolling away from the door with stilted movements so that Gamzee could stumble in. He didn’t know why his friend had decided to visit him, but he was relieved for the comfort. He watched silently as the troll walked over to the pile of Fiduspawn cards, bending over and handing them to Tavros, who took them with a small nod of thanks. Gamzee understood him more than any other troll, really. The lowerblood shuffled through his cards, having picked up another pile, bringing himself over to the table almost as slowly as his dear friend talked. He spread them out on the table, eyes shining as he looked at them, each and every one preserved in small sleeves that he had been given by Vriska after one of their particularly successful FLARPs. She had _actually_ been proud of him. Never again would she be.  
  
“WeLl, I wAs JuSt ThInKiNg ThAt It’D bE eAsIeR tO uNdErStAnd WhAt MoThErFuCkInG WiCkEd ShIt YoU wErE SaYiNg AbOuT fIdUsPaWn If I cAmE hErE iN pErSoN.”  
  
And so, the two sat and talked.


	12. ♏ Manipul8 ♏

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Vriska time, folks.

The spider-eyed troll wasn’t Marquise Spinneret Mindfang, but she would have liked to be. She was extremely powerful In her own right, sure, but she yearned to be better. To get more power and to motivate others to get more was one of her many priorities in life. She was conversing with one such weak troll, a rustblood with nothing going for him except for his animal control abilities. Tavros didn’t suspect a thing. She put on smiles for her friends, sure, but they always hid greed and sharp teeth. It was just her nature, really, to be that way; Vriska had never acted any better than that, and she didn’t intend to change for anyone. She was as detestable and poisonous as a spider, possessing vision eightfold to further prove her demeanour. She was gifted in weaving webs of lies to improve their attitude towards her, though. Vriska couldn’t care less about what they thought, in truth.

Vriska had found that FLARPing had given her reason to become even more like Mindfang, A bonus was that it was different and exciting, causing her to realise that she relished the distraction that it bought from her otherwise mundane existence. She didn’t glean enjoyment from much else, really. She couldn’t even be bothered to connect with that Egbert kid Sollux had told her about. She didn’t interact with the yellow blood apart from that, and he had contacted her instead of the other way around. Her fingers slid across the keys, though she rapidly deleted what she had written. She didn’t want to make it seem like she cared, because she was only interested in what benefitted her, and didn’t see how trolling some dumb teenager would help. She viewed the concerns of others as irritating unless they concerned her as well, largely because she was much too busy to devote any sort of attention to those.

“Alright, Tavros, we’ve 8een trekking for a while, 8ut we’re finally here.”

She stood in the Land of Maps and Treasure - or as close as their FLARPing world and landscape could get to it - with Tavros. The rustblood gave her good company, despite the other advantages he held. He was easy to persuade and manipulate, and she cared not for that their interaction was largely frowned upon by the limits of troll society. She thought that he held flushed feelings for her, and by the way he stayed by her side no matter what the danger, it was more than likely. In fact, she didn’t express it, though it was woefully obvious. She pitied him, almost, for his feelings towards her, because she wasn’t certain whether or not she reciprocated them. She had never considered having any of her quadrants filled, aside from the one that she intended to break. She no longer gleaned anything from her kismesitude with Eridan. She guessed that it would break him, too, and regarded it a last pleasure for her struggles.

Vriska paid no mind to the rustblood as he tugged gently at the sleeve of her outfit, just shrugging him off and not even sparing him time to ask his question. She even went so far as to brush off her jacket sleeve and wander over away from him, sitting down. She set her satchel down, the likes of which contained supplies for Tavros and the rest of her FLARPing crew. Vriska held all of her things in a long belt stretching from the right shoulder of her jacket to her left hip, dotted with pockets and loops in which to place knives and daggers. From one of these pockets, sewn closest to her heart, she retrieved the famed Fluorite Octet, the prize product of one of her most recent plunders. Moving the dice idly between her fingers, blind to the true power they held, she rolled them. Beams of light shot from the dots on them, and the coveted Journal of Mindfang was placed in her outstretched hands.

“I haven’t seen this 8eauty in what seems like an age…”

She muttered this only for her own ears, knowing that nobody else would really care about her obsession with the life of her great ancestor, Marquise Spinneret Mindfang. Everyone else, including her dancestor that she hadn’t met, was obsessive for the life of Karkat’s ancestor, the Signless, or the Sufferer. She had no idea why they would care for a rustblood. No, he had been worse. A mutantblood, no less. Karkat had never struck her as a leader, as the boy’s ancestor had been, and Vriska frequently wondered what on earth went wrong. He could have been incredible, but to her he was incredibly… lacklustre, underwhelming. She shook those thoughts away by turning back to the Journal. Smoothing her hand over its cover, Vriska began to leaf through the book, taking more care in flipping through the brown, frail pages than she had displayed towards any other troll or being. A smile curled her lips.

Even though she couldn’t care less about the hemospectrum, she knew and liked that it gave her something of an excuse to make the other people around her feel inferior. As well as her position giving her authorities and power over others, it provided such a thing in a much more literal sense. With a small smile, she looked down at Tavros. She had learned that the lower on the hemospectrum you were, the more susceptible to control you were. As such, the bronzeblood was the perfect candidate for any experiments she wanted to run or tests she wanted to try with her manipulating abilities. She knew that she’d be able to coerce him into things well enough while keeping her ‘magic’ at bay, as he thought she was scary enough, but that was really no fun. She noticed how the bull-horned troll flinched even when she laid her gaze on him. Though, it was more likely the mischievous glint in her eyes that frightened him.

“Say, Tavros, 8uddy, would you like to particip8 in a little experiment?”

“uHHH, SURE, i SUPPOSE,,,”

Vriska didn’t expect her friend to disagree, truly, and if he didn’t she’d do it anyway, despite the ethical wrongness of the actions. So when he nodded to her and practically handed his mortality to her, a wide grin split her features. He had no idea what she would do, and if he had, he would have disagreed in a few more pathetic, stammered words. She nodded her thanks to him, far too occupied with her own scheming thoughts. She had decided within a few seconds of thought how she felt about him, and thought it better to prevent him stewing over it and irritating her for the rest of his sweeps. Anything was some fraction better than to have him waiting for a response that she knew he’d never accept nor be willing to. Vriska wouldn’t give him one, nor give him a chance to ask. That would be foolish on her part. She needed to make sure he was out of her way.

“Keep nice and still, 8ut don’t forget to 8reathe. I’ll guide you the 8est I can.”

She ventured, then, into a territory unknown to Tavros. After a while, she used her abilities to force his eyes and mouth shut. He didn’t suspect a thing, still, and was left unable to protest, as Vriska had a strong hold on his mind and had erased his willpower. Even though it was entirely unnecessary, as he’d obey her without question, she kept a gentle, guiding hand in the small of his back. She knew that his legs gave him trouble sometimes, even though they were perfectly functional. Vriska even hummed a Fiduspawn theme he’d made her listen to as she walked, if only to mock his interests. She liked him as a friend, and it’d be a shame, but she continued with a blank expression. She concentrated on her footsteps, grouping them into eights. She just needed something to serve as a distraction, and she’d already put the Journal back so that she could focus on manipulating the feeble Taurean.

The recounts said she sent him off the plank with a little push of encouragement.

There was no ship or plank, and it wasn’t encouragement.


	13. ∞ The Escaper ∞

Cirlun was a naive troll when it came to dealing with her surrounding environment, but when she had taken the discs from her advisor, she truly knew nothing. Despite all of the time she had spent reading in the book-hive, none of the mythology and legend she had studied had prepared her for the broken world that would greet her.

She had checked around that Astril was in the throne room and would not intercept her mission. Moving in the shadows cloaking the obscenely large hive, she grinned to herself with a mischievous satisfaction lighting her normally stoic features. Travelling around in the night time would aid her, as she would often wander through the corridors when sleep did not claim her.

The royalblood knew her way around with little hesitation after so long. Her feet guided her more than her eyes as the dusk fell, casting further shadow on the halls. Cirlun did not expect any guards to intercept her in her travels, as she was deep enough inside the castle that they didn't bother being there. 

The guards rarely travelled so far, despite the many times they were asked to sweep the grounds in times of high alert. That said, there was little opposition to her maternal figure's rule, as she imposed laws and regulations that practically ensured an autocracy, or something close to it. Nobody seemed to mind that she ruled. 

The lineage Astril heralded from was one of the more significant violetblood families. Family was an odd term, though, due to the troll method of reproduction. She had many ancestors, those that could bear her sign. Aquitannius, Sign of The Elegant, fit her well. Cirlun had cause to believe that her 'mother' was the descendant from one of the original violetblood families, alongside the Amporas. It was a strange coincidence how fate had caused lines both ancient and new born to collide in such a fashion.

The troll crept along thr winding halls, those that she regretted and despised knowing as well as the palms of her hands. There lay every distraction in the castle through which she roamed, yet the heiress' own thoughts still took priority while the night crept closer and her job's window closed in. She was hardly alarmed by this self-imposed deadline, however, as she held a patience unmatched by many. 

Though the very notion was morbid, she had been waiting for her chance to cull her advisor and claim her rightful position as throne-bearer to Earth X.

The planet was referred to as this due to its instability and insignificance when considering the cosmos. Countless faulty timelines - including her own, though Cirlun didn't know it - had chosen the planet as a host, a sort of hub for destruction, because it was both structurally weak and its inhabitants were never well-prepared to deal with opposition, no matter how small. 

The one exception to this unspoken cosmic decree were Cirlun's - moreso Astril's - citizens. To shatter this confidence, the Omega Session was created, eradicated in all of Earth X's countless timelines save for the catalyst. Another strange feature of the planet was that it resembled Earth in structure more than Alternia or Beforus despite the fact it was a troll-inhabited land, contributing to its name.

A hum escaped the young troll's lips as she moved, the discordant note grating against no ears but her own. Cirlun felt a shiver move down the length of her spine, and it wasn't just because of the humming. Dusk was fading to night at last, causing the residual warmth provided by the sun to become drawn from her skin.

With a small huff, she fumbled for the bubble-wand serving as her specibus, her nautical fetch-modus, blowing a bubble. Upon closer inspection, there was a small, remotelike contraption within the bubble. She took it out, watching with a small smile as its container burst into iridescent particles. It seemed to be a portable Wardrobifier of sorts.

Directing it towards herself, a soft light filled the air around her, glowing and shifting into a velvety cloak of deepest pink. This cloak was one that she had spent an entire half-sweep sewing by hand. The golden infinity-shaped pin was indicative of the symbol she had always used in identification, lacking a zodiac symbol.

Cirlun hadn't bothered to choose one of them, but she knew - after extensive research on the subject - that she could have chosen Pirius. Although Pittarius was more accurate, considering that she was to be a Derse-dreaming fuchsiablooded Hero of Void, she didn't know that and would not for some time. Pirius was the Sign of the Storyteller, and it also appealed to her because she was a fuchsiablood with an intense connection to a violetblood.

She pulled the cloak tighter around herself as she finally approached the doors to the throne room. There came the drifting sound of voices from the other side, and it made Cirlun tense up noticeably. Although she had already stolen the discs a few days prior, the nerves that came with it still lingered. She had her doubts, and didn't want her only chance of liberation to slip from her grasp.

The doors slammed open, and Cirlun bolted.

Her heart was hammering so hard that she could hear little else, let alone the soothing, smooth voice of her 'mother'. The royalblood was being called for with a tone her ears didn't recognise, as it was gentler. She was adjusted to ice and disatisfaction in Astril's voice. This was foreign to her, unluckily and sadly enough. As Cirlun darted between shadows, her mind reeled with flashes of distant memories.

She felt her way around in the near darkness, letting her feet pound across the floor, each impact unexpectedly light and quick. Her feet - closed in simple boots whose laces threatened to unravel at any second - were aching, but she pressed forwards. It was all she could do. She didn't want to be discovered having hidden the discs, and hated the facts that glared at her. 

She wasn't fit to be empress. She was emotionally weak, no matter how much she suppressed her emotions. She would have been culled by the beasts long ago lest she had been left without the empress' protection, and the purple that burst out at her from every direction was simply a reminder that she couldn't shake. 

The laces of her boots further loosened, but her mind was far from the physical risks of her run, her mindless and practically baseless escapade. Truly, Cirlun had headed towards the throne room because she had decided that she didn't talk to her mother enough. She felt incredibly guilty on that front, and a lot of that guilt stemmed from the memories floating around in her subconscious. When she was a little younger, Astril had taken more care in regards to her protection and shown that her maternal instinct did, in fact, exist. Cirlun just guessed that it had been buried in favor of returning to her royal duties. 

She slowed unknowingly, her steps faltering. She lost her footing and yelled out. There was a shuffling of feet from her unknown pursuer, and warm arms wrapped around her. Astril had caught her 'daughter', just in time to prevent Cirlun from hurting herself. She smiled down at the six-sweep-old, a small chuckle escaping her lips. 

"Whatever are you doing, running away like that, dear?" 

Astril questioned, but Cirlun was too shocked to reply. The heiress shuddered against Astril's chest, a pink tear streaking down her cheek and dripping from her chin. The Empress allowed Cirlun to cry, placing a gentle hand on her back and pulling her into a close embrace. 

"It's okay." 

She murmured, Cirlun only able to let out a sob in reply. A thick silence hung in the air for a moment before the tension was broken, Astril leaning down and tying up the girl's boots. Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but the Empress spoke once more as she stood, wiping away the weaker troll's tear stains. 

"I love you, Cirlun. You're my daughter, after all."


	14. ∞ ♦ Meetings ♦ ☆

No matter how hard the royal troll thought, she had done nothing to deserve Etoile's love. He was too good for her, too deserving of someone better. Although there was no-one 'better' than she was in terms of their caste system, when it came to social standings, Cirlun left much to be desired when it came to doing the socialising itself.She was exceedingly awkward, even when around those she knew and trusted.

Those were few, limited to Astril - though the Empress' 'trust' often left doubt in her young, pessimistic mind - and her moirail himself. The two barely knew each other, and due to the way he acted she knew well enough that Etoile was not of the blood colour he wore. She doubted he was viridianblooded, as that was what he had told her, and disliked that he was hiding from her.

Cirlun often wished that she would somehow become a ceruleanblood, that she could control her future subjects and force them to reveal things. Though it was dreadfully hypocritical, considering the volume of information she had taken to hiding, she had surmised that it would make her job so much easier, and so much more... open. She wouldn't have to change herself if she stayed comfortable in so much as the thought that she could manipulate their views of her.

That wasn't enough, though. Cirlun was greedy, though she'd never admit to it because of her circumstances. She had everything she could ever want, except for all of her quadrants and freedom. Instead of focusing on what she had, the royal focused on what she didn't have, and that made her a terrible friend and an even worse moirail. 

She sat in her bedroom, smiling to herself as she leafed through an old, dust-coated tome that she had retrieved from the library. It was one of her favourites, 'A Beginner's Guide to Quantum Leaps', ever since she had dedicated all of her expansive library time to figuring out how and why Etoile had appeared in her timeline.

There was little information on portals, rifts or space-time weakness, so the more she read the more frustrated she became. Nothing could ever come close to explaining whatever phenomenon Etoile claimed bought him to Earth X, the foreign tear in the air that had hummed with unbridled cosmic energy.

Her Trollian didn't go off, even though she knew Etoile would finally be able to contact her on it. She had made an account on it to talk to him and him alone. 

Her trolltag - for identification on the site - was AlchemicAxolotl. Although she knew 'alchemic' likely wasn't a real word, or the proper term, "AlchemyAxolotl" or "AlchemicalAxolotl" both sounded distinctly wrong. The second part of her trolltag was simply the species of her lusus, and she loved the animals themselves very much, so she deemed it appropriate.

She was fascinated by alchemy, and viewed it as the border between magic and science. Cirlun had always wondered if magic was real, whether it existed in her timeline or universe or not. Magic was real to an extent, due to its presence in the books she was so fond of reading, though she wished it was so much more. Etoile, if he hadn't been lying to her, would be a living and breathing proof that magic - or some similar, reality-altering force - truly did exist. 

Soon, her eyes began to read and reread the same paragraph over and over again, despite the fact that she'd been perfectly fine and concentrating well enough seconds before. With a soft huff, she realised that she hadn't been taking in any of the information on that entire page. Sparing a glance out the window of her room, Cirlun noticed that the sky was already becoming darker, and was doing so rapidly.

The fuchsiablood stood from her desk, looking at her husktop in a hopeful manner before noting that her Trollian was still blank, devoid of notifications or any other indication that her moirail wanted to talk to her. She was noticeably dissappointed by this, however much knowledge she held of the mutant limeblood's situation. She knew that Etoile took a lot of care and often lost track of the time while working on his projects.

A stubborn and inconsiderate part of her wished that he would stay in better contact with her. Cirlun often worried for the limeblood's wellbeing, especially due to his vulnerability to heatstroke in his stuffy and rather dangerous workroom. All she could do was hope that Pumama, the boy's lusus and chief guardian, would keep a good eye on Etoile and protect him from the majority of harm that could befall him.

She walked to the door of her room, feet barely making any sound. She needed to get out and physically meet Etoile again, or she swore she'd go crazy. She craved his warmth, as stupid as that sounded. It was killing her not to see him, as she felt so lonely without him. Cirlun doubted he felt the same way about her, though. The young troll thought her quadrants would fill rather quickly once she made herself known, particularily her black-leanings.

She wanted to maintain the one she already had. Etoile was so important to her, but she knew that their relationship could turn pitch at any moment. Although the very thought instilled fear in her heart, she maintained that thought as the truth. Cirlun had realised that she was easily influenced, especially by the hemospectrum.

Having memorised back routes and guard formations, she took solace in the fact that Astril was busy, getting out of the water within minutes and heading towards Etoile's hive unopposed. She knocked on the door, and her face fell when she recieved no reply. 

Cirlun hated waiting, especially because it was for Etoile, who she hadn't seen in more than three weeks. She heard a gentle padding of paws from around the corner of the hive, her fins pricking to the nearly inaudible sound. She couldn't wait to see her moirail. He was the second most important troll in her life at that moment, second only to her mother, who she had been taught to hold in only the highest regard.

Slowly, the puma made herself visible, but Cirlun only saw the big cat's flicking tail before the lusus lifted her into the air by the collar of her dress. It was a gesture that she recognised. Cats often held their kittens by the scruffs of their necks. It was as if Pumama had accepted the seadweller as one of her own young. Cirlun initially froze up in terror, relaxing only when she felt that the puma's teeth weren't sinking in far and she was being held securely.

After a couple of minutes, Pumama set her down on the floor, and she almost fell, much to her embarrassment. Cirlun realised she was outside the other's workroom. A couple more minutes passed where Pumama had entered the room, and when she came back out, Etoile was sitting on her back. The royal's face lit up, and she called out to him with a smile in her voice as well. When the lusus allowed Cirlun onto her back, she sat behind Etoile, and couldn't help but realise the flush on his cheeks.

It was the colour of red candy apples.


	15. ♈ She’s Losing Herself ♈

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for gore and character death. Have fun.

Aradia scared most people, and she wasn’t sure why. Sure, she had possessed a myriad of different forms, but she was still a troll. Over time, her identity had faded, and her sense of it as well had diminished into what she had become. She still saw herself as a ghost, a frog-sprite and a robot, regardless of how strong she felt that she was anything but. It was just how she had grasped onto her identity in the past, though she had none any more. As an extremely gifted Maid of Time - ‘creator of time’, so to speak - she would have liked to be able to manipulate and change things. She wanted to be able to turn back time and see herself for who she really had been. That was just what she thought she could do, however. To possess Retcon abilities was far beyond what she could ever comprehend.

Still she waited, ever-expectant, for her powers to come forth and give her more worth than she had ever been perceived with. Though she willingly used a slur against herself, deeming herself a rustblood, it didn’t make her feel any better about herself. She made an effort to act in such aristocratic ways so that people would actually think higher of her, look beyond her burgundy colours. She was intelligent in her own right, and knew of the impending doom of her friends and fellow players. It confused her that she wasn’t tied to the Doom aspect, due to her fascination with the apocalypse and such morbidities. For this reason, she was friends with Sollux, as the Captor held an extremely strong connection to that one in particular, and it wasn’t just because of his bifurcation, despite the fact that he gained ‘extra lives’ with his two dream selves.

Aradia held no power in the scheme of things, and that’s how it would stay. She made her efforts, but nothing she did - even speaking in the ways of more aristocratic highbloods - would make her any more significant. She loathed it. She loathed herself for it, and she reminded herself so consistently that she was nothing. Seeing one of her best friends become so well-known, so respected and loved by a highblood, the highestblood, it hurt. Hurt so much. There was little she could do about it, though, so she grew to resent the blood in her veins. She was calm about it, though, and never expressed that hatred to anyone. She never told a soul, even curling into herself when they’d ask how she was. She’d smile through it all, though the voices in her ears were screaming at her still.

The omens that guided her every movement were darkened by the future, a future that she only wished to bring to light. Why Aradia wasn’t a Seer, either, was something that had evaded her knowledge for all of the time that she had been inside the game. She hadn’t been able to research it, or adventure to take her mind off things, to explore the dark crypts she often liked. In one instance, one that she never spoke of, Vriska had asked her to make a map for a FLARPing adventure, to which Aradia happily obliged. She had taken a few days making the map, and the spiderlike troll had become impatient, but it was because she had ventured into another crypt and mapped it instead of just inventing something that seemed unrealistic. That was her only interaction with Vriska before Sgrub.

The Aries troll had already lost her lusus before the game, and she was losing herself as well. Her identity was being smothered and obscured by the moment, and that was something she could never have predicted even if she had been able to travel forward in time so easily. The timelines would never dictate this to her in such a way, the gripping and rehabilitating loneliness and loss she felt when she entered Sgrub. She no longer knew who she was, truly, and she was just floating from form to form on a whim so that she didn’t feel quite so empty. She was grateful to those who had stuck by her side, and who had actually supported her through the mayhem. Those few who had not forgotten her, those few who remembered her for who she was before.

Aradia wasn’t ready for the change, but it came.

She glared darkly at Equius with her new, shining eyes, disregarding the fact that he had made her a new body out of - almost - pure courtesy. She had not expected to have a new form, and she hardly desired such a change. She had been comfortable being aimless. Having no physical tethers, no true responsibilities. That was, responsibilities aside from preventing the death of her whole team and filling in one of the Cardinal Aspects. Equius Zahhak was a whole other story, one that she didn’t want to tell anybody. Although she knew he meant well, mostly, he had given himself ulterior motives. She didn’t like him much before, really. He was a creep to her. But now, now his actions had truly pushed her into loathing. Deep-seated hatred that, after so long being blank, she didn’t understand.

She hadn’t witnessed or known about the indigo that coursed through her veins. She didn’t know the source of the emotions that began to flood her, and it was all so confusing. Too confusing. She wanted to bash her head into the wall, to forcefully pull herself out of her body because it all just made her want to… well, she didn’t know what she wanted, what she wanted or needed to feel, nothing. For the first time, she would go ahead blind, without the dark portents and voices to guide her. Aradia no longer knew, only hoped and misunderstood. There was nothing in the whirl of thoughts plaguing her muddled mind that was definite for a few moments. The exception to this happenstance formed into one thought, the likes of which she couldn’t push away.

The girl wanted to harm Equius. To make him pay for what he had done. She wanted to rip her ‘heart’ from her chest, though she knew not of its colour, because of the rage that festered and grew like a pest within her soul. She still glared at him, whirling ruby eyes fixed on the mechanic with one goal: to feed the hunger that grew steadily, to absolve what she had been condemned to. She stood, walking over to him, a hand clenched into a fist only to hover over her heart as if to protect it. He didn’t have time to react before she slapped him, her hand leaving a harsh mark against his grey skin. She slapped him again, and again and again, but the fury within her only grew. Finally, she pushed him against the wall, hands gouging into the chest and locating the heart that he had made her.

She threw it onto the ground, driving her heel through the pulsating pseudo-flesh and watching with something no less than manic glee as It finally burst. Aradia hadn’t even considered the red leanings Equius had clearly forced into her body. Invading her mind. Without her heart, she was numb, blissfully numb again. Numb to the pain that she would cause the Sagittarius troll, too. While he muttered something feverishly, pathetically, about how she, a lowblood, was stronger than him, and that she had no right to treat him in such a way. Aradia then coolly smiled, but the expression was warped and ingenuous. The one side effect, it seemed, to not having a heart was complete and utter apathy and inability to display emotion properly. Not that she minded much.

Paying no mind at all to the deep hue splattered across her front, she bent down to pick the troll up by the collar of his shirt, using her newfound strength to mock him. Letting him go, she was surprised to. Find that his weight dropped like a sack of flour. She hadn’t knocked him out yet, and his eyes weren’t dull in any respect, though he was not reacting any more. A broken-toothed smile was frozen on his lips. Equius, the troll renowned for being STRONG, had finally been weakened. It was pitiful, really, how much he had changed. Seeing a bow on the floor, the likes of which was actually not snapped, she took it into her hands. An uncertain grin spread to her lips, and she swept an arrow from where its quiver lay unused. Notching the arrow and pulling the string, a flat laugh escaped her lips.

The arrow struck true, like his own never had.


	16. ♍ Intergalactica 💀

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosemary fluff. Have fun while it lasts.

Rose was so glad she had met Kanaya. The girl had found her happiness, and the isolation that had plagued her had faded into the dark. She was a Seer of Light, after all. Rose had not seen the light that the girl would so readily provide her with, though. It was a mystery she couldn't hope to solve. Why Kanaya had chosen _her_ , of all the beings on their two planets, was another. There were so many beautiful beings on Alternia alone.

While some of the people the two were around fostered an inherent dislike of their relationship, they turned a blind eye to such negativity. Nothing good would come from listening to or doing anything to acknowledge such slander, and both were smart enough to realise this. Being inter-species and homosexual, it was rather difficult. The two women were unashamed, luckily enough, and openly displayed their affections.

Rose had realised that their relationship could be taken for discrimination in a multitude of ways, and she didn't know how she could effectively brush off or discredit any of it, no matter how hard she thought. It really was a bad thing, that they were practically defenceless in the scheme of the world. Kanaya knew this as well, so the two made their best efforts to keep in contact as much as they could.

All that mattered to Kanaya and Rose was that they still had each other.

Things were made so much easier for the group when they ascended, but the road that they had been forced to travel had wrought unfathomable pain. The trolls and kids from the Alpha and Beta alike had lost so much because of the game that seemed so innocent. They had lost parents, friends, comrades and siblings along the way, and some had lost even more: Rose would never forget Dave's face when she dictated his fate.

_"Isn't the sky beautiful, Kanaya? The stars are beginning to come out. We might be able to see the Virgo constellation if we look close enough."_

The girl spoke, but her thoughts were in another place. She worried for Karkat, she worried for John and far too many others to have room for her own internal conflict resolutions. Instead, as a coping mechanism, she had forgotten. A frown etched itself onto her lips, one that Kanaya did not see, as she thought of the Alpha Kids. In particular, her thoughts lingered on Roxy. Painful memories began to rise, but she pushed them away.

Her mother had never been there for her, and the other Lalonde was just too much to handle at some points in time. Sure, she adored Roxy, but she was hard to handle. She understood that they _were_ genetically connected in some twisted way, whether it was because of the vast changes the Scratch had made to their sessions or not. Rose wanted to get closer to all of the Alpha kids, to learn their stories.

To do that, she needed to find other things to keep her links with them alive, and to face the hardships that would come with facing her past. She needed to come to terms with the dizzying similarities between the two. She was sure that the Scratch or some other game mechanic had something to do with the appearance of the kids, and knew well enough that it would take even more research - even years of it - to understand.

The game was so screwed up and twisted beyond even Rose's comprehension. Rose, who knew more than any one about occult instances and magic, was left speechless and confused. She would need, most likely, to consult Aradia or Sollux on the game's inner workings to gain a better understanding of its true nature, even though it would take time. Kanaya's voice soon roused her from her thoughts, and she was grateful for it.

"You Are Right That The Stars Are Beautiful. It Is A Shame That They Only Show Themselves More Visibly When The Night Falls Because We Can Not Observe Them With As Much Ease. I Suppose We Have More Time To Study Them Now Thanks To The Unfortunate Fate Of The Dream Moons. However Our Witch Of Life Feferi Can Not Maintain The Dream Bubbles Forever. We Should Enjoy Them While We Can."

Rose looked towards Kanaya, rolling in the grass to face her regardless of the dirt. It would all come off extremely easily, thanks to the magically enhanced fabrics that the God Tier outfits were made of. That, or it wouldn't stain at all. Although the group had adapted well to Earth C, some things were harder to come by than they had been. One of those, inconveniently, was laundry powder and detergent. 

In the peaceful moment with her girlfriend, she forgot each and every one of her sorrows. Pressing a gentle kiss to the rainbow drinker's cheek, a smile graced her expression for the first time in an aeon. So it seemed. True happiness had evaded her for so long. The troll seemed to be pleasantly surprised by this, smiling in return and returning the kiss before she returned her gaze to the sky.

"However Beautiful The Stars May Be It Is Getting Too Dark Even With Them Shining To Provide A Safe And Well-Lit Environment For This Particular Outing. We Should Return To Our Friends Before Either Of Us Risk Getting Injured. We Have Little In The Way Of Medical Supplies Though I Doubt We Need Them. Thank You For Today Rose."

The Maryam stood, brushing off the grass from her dress and extending a hand to her human partner. She was thinking about the fact that they had once been kismesis, or something close to it, and how much the girl had changed and grown for the better. She was grateful to have Rose by her side, and not just because the Seer of Light provided her with a better understanding of human cultures and customs.

_"You're welcome, Kanaya. We should do this again as soon as possible."_

Kanaya and Rose did feel very strongly, and knew that they would lay down their lives to defend their relationship and the one they loved most. Even though they did have strong friendships and relations or connections to others, that was nothing compared to their own. **Unbeknownst** to the couple, they spoke at the same time, offering the same farewell wish. Three simple words were spoken for the first time towards each other.

"Have A Good Night, Rose."

" _Have a good night,_ _Kanaya."_

_"I Love You."_


	17. Familia Eius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Familia Eius means "her family" in Latin!
> 
> WARNINGS : MINOR GORE, MANIPULATION, DEATH
> 
> This is an AU where Cirlun and Etoile are Rinn and Lucy's parents.  
> Rinn and Lucy are Logan (my moirail) and I's fankids.

The young woman smiled, even though she realised quickly after what a cruel thing it was to do. She knew well how much her brother had suffered at no hand but her own. Lucy was aware of how pathetic Rinn had slowly become, and she thought she could take advantage of his evident melting. There was something else she had to take care of, though, because there was nothing she could do if her adoptive mother - the Empress - was in the way to prevent it.

Just as Cirlun herself had culled her Advisor, Lucy needed to follow in those footsteps. However reluctant the young woman appeared to be, she knew that it was inevitable. She had trained all of her life for the chance to be on the throne, even subjecting herself to deep, comatose states or long, trancelike daydreams in order to train her mind for the mental strain that her magic would place on it.

Despite the fact that she was a human, through a brutal, painful process performed by the Empress, human's zodiac powers - those naturally held by trolls - could be awakened. However, there seemed to be a ten percent survival rate for it, lessened further by natural weaknesses. It itself was a severely unnatural thing, as human bodies were rarely strong enough to handle the abilities that would normally lie dormant until they died out. Nothing could be said to begin credibly explaining those magics.

Lines between troll and human blurred ever faster as time pushed forward, and the young heiress - only sixteen years old by human time measurements - trained harder. Her body was still burning as her gaze settled down on her adoptive brother, that curt smile she had worn mere seconds ago fading. Lucy's voice had grown as she had, and it was cold and emotionless as she addressed him.

"Rinn, dearest brother, I expect you not to enter my palace unless you are instructed - directly by me, and me alone - to do so. I know well who you have become, _rebel leader,_ and that it is likely you have double agents in the High Court and the Council of Highbloods. That is why."

Her pink eyes, normally a bright, almost fluorescent tone, had dulled into a darker shade resembling fuchsia or maroon. She normally wore contact lenses to hide it, but they were unobscured in the waning light of the throne room. Rinn's eyes were blue, and they remained sharp as ever when he spat a retort to the other. He was normally the calmer of the two siblings.

" _Your_ palace? Last I checked, _Lulu,_ Mom was still alive.You can't command me like that. Besides, you're the younger of us. Don't you think this empire could use an Emperor for once?"

He was becoming angrier. Lucy knew that much. They were moirails before her megalomania begun to show, before she would lose weeks' worth of sleep aggressively training, physically and mentally pushing herself to meet destructively high standards time and time again. They had been closer as siblings than they were to anyone else. But now, Lucy had become hungry for the power that she had never been given. She'd take it instead.

"So."

Her voice rang out through the halls.

"Do you mean to tell me that you want to steal this from me?"

Rinn was silent. There was no point in arguing with someone so irrational. He just glared at his sister as she moved to the back of the room. A few hushed words were spoken between she and the guards, then a shadow was thrown to the wall, moonlight illuminating the heiress and another figure, bound tightly and shroud in a brown cloak.

"I had intended to wait a few more tsweeps before my Ascension, but little has proved a greater disappointment to me thus far than a missed opportunity."

With a gentle, swift motion, she pushed the hood away to reveal no other face but her mother's. _Their_ mother's. The woman's expression was gaunt, eyes glassy and cast to the floor. She looked near death already. Cirlun had clearly given up, even though she had many, many tsweeps to live. Would have, anyway, if she was unopposed. Lucy was smiling. The heiress had clearly given into her thirst for power. This notion was only solidified when she next spoke.

"Isn't this lovely, Rinn? We're almost all here. I never thought I'd see you again... Gog knows, we're still missing someone. Didn't Otets join your little rebel group? I suppose I can't blame him, but what I'm about to do next would have been so much more fun."

Lucy offered no further explanation for what she regarded as 'fun', and it was rather lucky the girl didn't. She turned to her 'mother', grin far too wide to be natural regarding the situation at hand. She picked a pouch full of die moulded from what looked like shards of multicoloured sea glass from a belt at her waist, holding it as if were made of gold. As the die tumbled to her waiting palms, a laugh escaped her. The noise was flat and emotionless.

"Do you like them, brother? I had them cast from the possessions of your pitiful ensemble that died from my guards' tridents. Particularly their jewels and medals."

Whether or not she was lying was unclear, but Rinn's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Don't you dare mention Otets. He was a good father to you and is still a good father to me. You're shithive maggots, Lucy. Why did you bring Mom into this?"

He wanted to take the die from her hands and smash them, to see them shatter and let her sister feel powerless. But he sat there, unmoving, waiting for the girl's response patiently.

"Because I knew that you'd never listen to me if I didn't bring a reason. I also realised that you were closer to our father, but it would have been nothing but fruitless to attempt getting him out here. Cirlun - sorry, Mom - had already given up by the time I sent the guards to get her. It was easier than I could have ever hoped."

The girl stopped talking, putting the die-pouch back around her waist and rolling the die between her fingers in an idle, bored gesture. Lucy threw them in the air, not even looking until they hit the floor. A haze of light surrounded them as she picked them up and when it cleared, Ψdon's Entente had replaced them all. The double-edged trident seemed too big for the short human, but she handled it with unprecedented ease.

Walking closer to her mother, she held Rinn's gaze, a cruel smile twisting her lips. This was a side to Lucy that he'd never seen and didn't want to see. Gently, every movement careful, she bent down and whispered something into Cirlun's ear that was enough to make the tired, half-dead Empress flinch. Lucy stood, gazing back to Rinn for a moment as if to check that he was watching her still. 

Then she used her fingers to unclasp the cloak she was wearing, a fuchsia one with an infinity clasp that she had taken from her mother. Casting it aside, she drove the trident down, deepest pink coating the prongs of the weapon in a gruesome spectacle of paint. From the blood, brightest white swirled. She was grinning like a maniac as it enveloped her. enough luminescence to hurt or damage Rinn's eyes.

Yes. This was what she had been waiting for for too long.

The change was minor, but she became taller, a circlet of gold and fuchsia gems resting on her head. Her gaze was sharper, and Cirlun's corpse - as well as the resulting blood - were nowhere to be seen.

"Rinn, dearest brother, are you alright?"

She asked the other figure in the room, walking to him and kneeling at his front. He looked petrified, to say the least. However, when she reached out to wipe a tear from his cheek, he grabbed her wrist.

"Do _not_ touch me."

His voice was monotonous, and his eyes flat blue-grey. It was clear enough that he hated her. It only made Lucy happier.

"Why, you're disagreeable today. Don't you want more power, Rinn? I am afraid I need to touch you for it... Well..."

She shrugged, backing away from him a little bit.

"I won't make you uncomfortable."

The girl had a plan, and she needed to gain Rinn's trust back if it were going to work. Despite all that had happened before, he smiled, the tiniest, trembling quirk of his lips that was unnoticeable unless one searched for it. Taking this as a sign, she stepped forward again, raising a brow as she opened her arms.

"Come on, now. I'm your moirail, aren't I? You're safe. You look like you need a hug..."

Reluctantly, the boy discovered that he _missed_ her. So he let her hug him, grateful for the warmth. Gog, he couldn't even remember the last time they hugged, and that was concerning. But a new heat came to his skin when she released him, a fierce burning that made him want to yell. His head lurched, and blue was the only thing he saw until he blacked out.

Lucy knew it was wrong, but she directed some guards to take him to his old room, the one they had both once been trapped in by her mother that was little more than a closet. Lucy had things for him to do, and couldn't risk him getting injured. Residual white motes of light drifted around her as she finally left the throne room.

While he Ascended, she felt her brother's life ebbing away, and it scared her more than she would have liked to admit. So Lucy had given a sliver of her power away, just enough that he didn't die. After all, this was no game. She had been intending to play Sgrub, but never got around to it. Now, there were other ways of gaining power in her world. The Omega Session could wait. Why would she risk that?

The Empress turned her head when she heard a voice, surprised to see no one there. Argh. Her head felt like it was going to split apart. She walked to Rinn's room, the ground swerving beneath her feet. She felt horribly nauseous, but pushed it all away when she finally opened the door.

To her slight alarm, he was already awake, staring into a mirror wordlessly. One of his eyes had become a troll's, with four solid black irises connected by two lines, resembling a plus sign. She sat next to him, taking the mirror gently from his grasp.

"What's wrong? You feel more powerful, don't you? That's great! I knew you'd be able to handle your new powers."

Her words were empty promises, but she was a gifted liar. She seemed genuine enough, even to her brother who had known her better than anyone else. For a moment, Lucy's shoulders dropped, and she almost sighed in relief, but Rinn spoke and wiped all of that away.

"I dunno, Luce. You're confusing me."

As time passed, she knew that his willpower was waning. The Empress' influence was spreading, and she feared not her brother breaking away from under her thumb. Her mind was reeling with dark thoughts, and she was slowly ordering the rebels to be killed. A select few were kept in the dungeons. Of course, Lucy made him do it for her. 

Even though she didn't have empath powers like he did, there was a deep-seated fear and plaguing thoughts of betrayal that kept him by her side. So she used him, threatening him with worse consequences, before she snapped. Her voice was harsh, back to the low growl that she had once used, a long time ago before his Ascension.

"I want you to get Dad for me. _Otets._ He should be in the dungeons. You know what, Rinn? I'm proud of you."

The compliment fell on deaf ears as he turned, body and heart numb after so long doing Lucy's dirty work. At first, it had fazed him. The killing. But now he barely washed the blood off his hands. Rinn wanted to be a good brother, and - still under the impression that they were that close - a good moirail. He didn't want to die above all of that, though.

When he reached the dungeons, Rinn activated Batkind, knowing how hostile many captives would be towards him, even though many had been in the ranks of the long-forgotten rebellion he had led. Since Rinn fell into Lucy's schemes, nobody had bothered to rebel. Many had tried, Etoile included, but optimism and effort had died rapidly.

Soon, a guard appeared. They were an Ascended Sagittarius, tall and stocky. It was evident that they had been chosen for the role, due to the unnatural gills on their neck that seemed to have been magically grafted there.

"Who are you here for? Did the Empress give you clearance, _Guaise?"_

They asked, inspecting the bat that he carried with narrowed eyes and taking it away, tugging it from his hands forcefully.

"Ote- I mean... Etoile Huudde."

Rinn replied, eyes sweeping around the dark space.

"Come this way."

The guard ordered, pushing Rinn to his knees in a cell. There, the Empress sat with the bound and scared Etoile, a curt smile on her lips. Cirlun's corpse was easily the most unsettling thing in the dull and dingy room. Lucy clapped her hands together, smile widening into a shark-toothed grin more reminiscent of their mother's. The door slammed shut behind him.

_**"Welcome to the family reunion!"** _


	18. ∞ Regency ø

Cirlun was lost in her own head. She never had anyone to talk to except for Astril, and even then life began to get a little boring as the sweeps went by. She knew that she wasn't supposed to talk to any of the royal guards, as they were busy enough doing their jobs, and she had no siblings, ancestor or dancestor to speak of. The only time she socialised with any other trolls was when she went to royal meetings or visited her Advisor in the throne room. There was very little in the way of outside communication for her, so she found it in the most dangerous way she could.

Of course, Trollian was hardly a viable option for someone like her. Even though she trusted Lamiac - the small, jovial oliveblood who was an employee of Skaianet and a communications officer of sorts for the palace - there were things about the company that she didn't. In particular, one employee got on her nerves, and she didn't even know his name yet. she just knew that Lamiac was always speaking forcibly high-pitched and happier than normal when she was corresponding with him. Regardless, due to all the encryptions the palace's network had to go through, she often had to filter through Skaianet itself.

The young troll found her lips curving downwards as her thoughts reeled. It was so lonely...

Lamiac was one of the few other trolls she had felt that she could trust to some degree. Apart from her lusus, she didn't really have much social experience beyond that which she read in the palace library, and the weight of having to act like such a highbrow highblood in public all the time was utterly draining. She was positively - or as Lamiac would put it, 'pawsitively' - bouncing on the balls of her feet whenever she had escaped from her room and ran down to the catlike troll's office, which doubled as her lodgings, but was a renovated ballroom. As such, it was enormous.

Cirlun didn't even know if trolls held balls. She thought that was more of a human culture, but her mother seemed to take pieces from many different timelines and planets. Sometimes, the violetblood was called into stressful half-sweep diplomatic meetings, and she'd leave in a fleet ship, coming back with new ideas. Many of these were incredibly unorthodox, and frowned upon by society. That was why the Heiress was scared of her mother: only they saw what was going on in the dark, and she was the one who made it all happen. Even though her own maternal figure was a caste below her, Cirlun felt humbled and weak.

Her dulled fuchsia gaze flickered around for a moment, then she closed her eyes again. There was nothing for her to see. It was all the same to her.

She had been young, naive, and wished for excitement that the world had never given her on its own. However dangerous her actions were, she hadn't cared, for it had been change. Cirlun had been given everything she ever wanted, but she focused too much on what she didn't have instead of what was there. It was one of her biggest flaws, and she had acknowledged it far too late. The ex-royal knew now, surrounded in darkness, that she was flawed. Her maternal figure had only been attempting to show her the truth, and she had pushed it away in favour of idealistic views. Those that had bought her life crashing down piece by piece.

She had sought out the discs again, of course.

The lost heiress looked down at the garb she wore, the soft material tearing and stitching repeatedly in black and white. She ran her fingers down it, a soft sigh barely audible in the emptiness. Out here, colours were dissolved, even the soft, ink-like blue tones that she had once taken such pride and comfort in. Cirlun wasn't even sure why the clothing moved in such ways, and doubted that it was supposed to. Last time she checked, there had been no one around to create time loops... the fabrics were thin, she thought. That was the only explanation she could draw up in her fading psyche. Space-time held little significance where she was. 

Now, everything was dark, and it was her fault. Everything had ended. Nothing seemed to want to start again. She was a Maid of Void, gifted only in creating and bringing forth darkness and confusion. Sure, she had been able to wrestle through the session, finding her own way to God Tier and mastering it. Despite that, all of her efforts seemed futile, because there was no one to share her happiness with. Companionship was what she had been searching for all of her life, and it never seemed to stay, however much she herself was willing to.

It had been hard, so, so hard. She had wandered for aeons through the broken session that was presented to her, training and training for her fated fight. Death had kept her on her toes, and now she had no ground to stand on at all. Her eyes flickered around the emptiness, searching for anything to break the monotony. Her claws raked at her palms, twitching with black energy. She remembered nothing of the fight with Gl'bgolyb at all. Just that she had been left in this endless Void, presumably of her own creation, for aeons longer than she could keep track.

There was a light.

Small at first, but it grew. Slowly, but her eyes drifted towards it. It was enough to give her hope for the world. A billion empty, nameless and insignificant sweeps of waiting were pushed behind her. The troll's hands curled into fists, the seething heat of her Void energy receding into a simmer around them. She felt it pop and crackle, fighting her suppression, but she couldn't let it out, as she had been doing ceaselessly for too long. Maybe she had been contributing to the darkness more than she realised.

It was time for her to settle down. It had been an age, but the tension in her shoulders was finally releasing. Cirlun allowed the energy around her hands to expand, swallowing her whole body, letting the warm darkness run through her skin and consuming her. Drifting forwards, she went entirely limp, focusing only on the speck of white. Worry melted away, along with the rest of her swarming pan's thoughts. She had been forgetting an awful lot, but she was sure she would remember this for the rest of her days.

Soon, the Void faded around Cirlun, and she was nearer to the light. She had forgotten how time worked in her vast darkness, but it had evidently been too long. Instead of the light, there was a planet. Small, destined to become better, a well of potential. Unfinished, but existent in the first place. She felt drawn to it. So, she went closer. There was something more there, she was sure. It wasn't just a dwarf planet. Her head was swimming badly, but she forced herself to go closer and enter the atmosphere.

This was the Land of Glow and Spires.

Blindingly white, thrumming so harshly it threatened to burn out her vision tenfold, like the most brutal days under the Alternian sun. Wreathing herself in the black mist crackling about her body, a soft sigh parted her lips. They had been dry, cracked and bleeding for many a sweep. She looked at the tall spires, the buildings made of a towering substance too ethereal to name. It seemed like a society had been built there, but she found no one. Desolation caused her power to flare, feeding off her own loneliness.

Someone else was there, and they were watching her. But they were benevolent. Amidst the tallest structures, there was one floating above them all. It seemed almost prismatic. Although it was completely clear, motes of light in all of the colours of the rainbow joined it in the air, shifting and moving constantly. It looked like a sphere, split in half by a diagonal line. Somehow, Cirlun knew that she should go there, for the better or worse.

"))((e)(... I guess t)(is... t)(is is it."

Her voice was atonal, scratchy and quiet as if she hadn't had cause to speak in a long time, which was true. It made her double back, coughing. Her God Tier wings stirred no air behind her, their greyed tones blurring in and out of focus. She was so tired, so unbelievably tired. Lethargy made her limbs heavy as bricks, but she had slumbered for sweeps enough. There was nothing else she could do but continue, and so she made her way up to the towers, the ones that seemed to burn themselves into her retinas.

Her eyes never seemed to still, looking around in awe of the light that greeted her every turn. She had found it. Her new start was here, even though she felt alone again. Surely there was someone else? Who had built these luminous buildings? She knew that she would meet them, however long it took to get there. It just so happened that they were resting in the sphere, though, and it split open as soon as Cirlun drew near, along the slash in the middle.

_"Hello? Is αnyone there? It would be much αppreciated if you could stop hiding from me."_

The voice came as a surprise to Cirlun, who froze on the spot for a few moments before clearing her throat awkwardly. She stepped forwards, letting the shield of dark smoke dissipate from where it had been sheltering her from the harsh light.

"))((ello... I come wit)( no ill intent. My name is Cirlun."

And it was true. The stranger's similarly fuchsia gaze swept over her once, as if scanning her methodically for any threat. The smile they gave seemed forced, but Cirlun relaxed slightly upon seeing it.

_"I know. You hαve trαvelled α long wαy, h_ _α_ _ven't you? I_ _αm_ _Atoren,_ _αn_ _d th_ _α_ _t is_ _αl_ _l you need to know for the time being."_

Atoren Rhopai was not surprised. She had known about the coming of the other for a long time, from the moment she had found the Land in seemingly barren darkness. After the Session had reset upon Gl'bgolyb's death, there had been numerous changes. One allowed a tear in the fabric of space-time, the Cataclysm, that had in turn introduced new hope. Atoren had been able to enter the session's void-space, though it was still unknown why or how she had chosen to enter the environment. The simplest explanation was the Land.

The mystical space that the two seadwellers occupied seemed to be Atoren's own Land. As far as the Heiress was concerned, it couldn't be anyone else's.

Cirlun sat in the air, her wings seeming to glitch in and out every so often. Her voice was slightly louder, but she still felt incredibly nervous about Atoren. Clearly, she had also considered the session completely barren, and was shocked to find a guide ready and waiting for her. Never had a space so light seemed so ominous and disorienting.

"Yes, I suppose I )(ave been aimlessly drifting a lot lately."

She laughed nervously, though her throat ached from that simple, joyless sound. Finally, her eyes settled on something. She was looking at the medals, shining still, on the woman's coat. It looked like a military sort of outfit, a long coat-dress with fuchsia lining and golden buttons. Most notable, however, was the fact that she wore long black gloves and boots, covering the majority of her skin.

_"You know, Cirlun, I h_ _α_ _ve no one else to converse with. This Land l_ _α_ _cks_ _αn_ _y Consorts,_ _αn_ _d my lusus f_ _α_ _ded long_ _α_ _go. You h_ _α_ _ve not been_ _α_ _ble to preserve your own lusus, h_ _α_ _ve you?"_

Atoren had very little social filter, in Cirlun's opinion, but she knew she had to keep quiet about her thoughts of their misdemeanours so as to get on this stranger's good side. Besides, to complain on that subject would be to blatantly display her own hypocrisy. So she grit her teeth and smiled through her objections.

"))((mm? O)(, no, I was not able to. Usually, s)(e slept in one of my specibus bubbles, but s)(e was refusing to be trapped. It was as if s)(e knew about w)(ere I was going."

There was an edge of sorrow in Cirlun's tone, but she couldn't help but feel guilty about her sadness, so she also suppressed that as much as she could. 

Atoren clapped her hands together, the sound echoing around the space and making Cirlun look directly into the other's eyes. The smile that the other had donned made Cirlun slightly fear for her life, though it was a normal reaction for anyone met with a stranger grinning at them like a shark. It was almost too jovial, given the information that Cirlun had just provided.

_"Brilli_ _α_ _nt! You h_ _α_ _ve no one else, then... perh_ _α_ _ps we c_ _α_ _n bond over our mutu_ _α_ _l loneliness? Or, well..."_

She pursed her lips, her claws tapping a rhythm akin to morse code out on the arm of the plush chair she sat in. Her back was straight as a rod, and she was tense. Wary of the small, traumatised troll in front of her. She leaned forward conspiratorially.

_"Our mutu_ _α_ _l thirst for_ _α_ _n Empire?"_

Instantly, Cirlun straightened her own posture, but it was more of a fearful thing, as if the fuchsiablood in front of her had threatened her in some way. Her eyes drifted down to her feet, and she refused to utter any reply for a few minutes. Again, time passed differently, so she really had no way to tell how long it was, but Atoren's grin dropped, and it made her fear rekindle.

"A)(... at t)(is point, it would be f∞lis)( of me to decline, I believe..."

Her throat burst with pain as she swallowed, nerves making her hands flex and curl again. She had spoken the truth, but perhaps it would have been advantageous for her to craft some lie, however simple.

Atoren barely seemed phased by her hesitance.

_"I know you αre lonely, Cirlun. There is nothing else for you here, αnd I hαve known your yeαrning in my own sweeps. You αnd I αre not αs dissimilαr as we mαy seem, however much you mαy deny it. I hαve suffered, too. Mαges are fαted to suffer for whαt they believe in, whαt they control. My words to you αre not empty. They αre simply offering you the only choice you will ever hαve."_

Cirlun shifted in her place, feeling a shiver run down her spine at these words. This one knew too much. Of course she was lonely. Some of it was blatant common sense, like that, because she had floated through a Void of her own creation for so long. But something was inherently... wrong about this. It was as if there was something more behind the other's knowledge.

What had she called herself? A Mage?

It was likely some kind of auditory hallucination, having been bombarded with noise after so long in emptiness, but the ticking of a clock began in the heiress' ears. Her voice felt too small, as if she was being swallowed up by the light around her. Her hands flared with ominous black, expelling whatever things she was making herself see. Paranoia was eating at her, and she could do nothing to stop it.

"I... I )(ave no c)(oice. You are rig)(t... But )(ow will we do it? Surely we cannot rule toget)(er?"

The glaring issue went unspoken: the fact that they had nobody to rule over in the first place. 

Atoren had once been told something by someone - the very same someone who Lamiac was routinely tormented by - using shifting black, white and green text. This mysterious malefactor had said that she would find her place with another, whether she liked it or not. That someone had something that would be very important to her, and make her feel as if she had fulfilled her 'Skaian duty', whatever that was.

_"Cirlun, I believe you... h_ _αve something for me, do you not?"_

The woman nodded, then, to this cryptic statement. There was no denying what Atoren wanted, and what needed to be done. Before the Session, she had explored a lot, and had found something so small and insignificant that she almost threw it away. Astril has scolded her for it later on, of course, but she couldn't quite remember why. 

She still had it in a small pouch sewn into her outfit, nearest to her heart so that she would never forget it. She had the feeling it was smaller than it was supposed to be, but they could figure that out later. They had all of the time in the world. 

"I... I do."

She reached into the pouch, rolling the small marble-like object in her palm and waiting for Atoren to hold her hand out for it. She didn't know why it was so significant, but she didn't know a lot of things. 

Cirlun gave Atoren the Matriorb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! The lovely Atoren Rhopai actually belongs to one of my good friends Aaron. He doesn't have an AO3 account, but you can find him on Wattpad at ClosetChronicles. I hope you enjoyed this short! It's my longest one to date. 2860 words! 
> 
> Apologies for the formatting trouble with the αs in Atoren's quirk. I'm not sure how to fix it.


	19. ⚙️ Whirlwinds ༄

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( Meat timeline w/ Candy elements )
> 
> ( CW: Depression )

John was feeling lonely. Ever since the the session had begun, he had steadily become quieter and quieter. It was nothing out of the ordinary, really, but he wasn't talking to any of his friends as much, and found himself taking comfort in any silence he could. Not even Casey was cheering him up, regardless of how many bright blue bubbles she blew or adorable noises she teased him with. So, strangely, he sought comfort in Dave.

His keyboard had begun gathering dust, as he'd returned to his old house with the intent to actually talk to people face-to-face and maybe invite them over. But now, after what felt like years of isolation, he blew off the grey motes. Coughing, John placed his fingers on the keys as it began to boot up. This bought a soft sort of half-smile to his face. Pesterchum seemed like ancient technology, but they - all of his friends from both sessions, as well as the trolls with Trollian - insisted on keeping the chat clients alive.

There were a few moments of inescapable lag as his desktop exploded with notifications. His friends loved him that much. Scrolling through his contact list, he noted that 'CarcinoGeneticist' had been the source of a lot of the notifications. Karkat and Dave shared one thing in common: they never shut up, and that was exactly what John liked about them.

Well, he normally did.

Due to their mostly well-meaning spam of messages, the two collectively succeeded in causing his screen to freeze for a solid ten minutes, during which time John lamented not having the grist at hand to alchemise a new one. Regardless, he sat in front of it, mostly unmoving apart from the habitual tapping of his feet against the floor. The wind moved against him so tightly it felt as if it were trying to crush him into an anxious mess.

Everything became a few shades brighter when the screen finally decided to work, and the Heir himself seemed to brighten, if only for a moment. He sat up a little straighter, fixing his glasses that had been knocked askew. The wind also began to disperse, leaving a gentle breeze that helped to melt the ever-mounting tension in his shoulders. Dave had messaged him a moment earlier.

The message - of a picture - was also attached to a link, an audio clip. John missed Dave _and_ his voice. He hadn't left the house in a long time, not since he came back to it. His friends used to try and visit, but they stopped trying three months ago when he didn't respond. Perplexed, John fumbled for his earbuds and plugged them into his laptop. The cool kid's warm tone graced his ears, bringing with it a sense of comfort.

"Hey, John. I know you probably won't hear this, but I just wanted to let you know that you're the coolest kid I've ever met. We're talking smuppet levels of cool."

John paused the video. Was that supposed to be a _compliment?_ He couldn't tell.

"You're so cool you put arctic freezes to shame. Anyway, I know you're all down in the dumps right now, and that's a completely valid response. We've been through some mad shit lately. But you can come and talk to me whenever you need me, okay? Point is, I want you to come and hang when you're finished being a hermit. Come outta your shell, dude. Find a new home, 'cause this one's all up in the clouds."

When the clip ended, John's smile fell and the giddy warmth faded from his body. It was suddenly very cold in the house. As much as he liked Dave, his energy had begun to wane. Soon, though, another ping sounded from his laptop. There was the photo that he'd forgotten. Clicking on that file, he realised it was akin to a new face reveal. He'd not seen Dave in so long. _Too long._ He could barely remember the faces of his friends. 

Even though Rose was a Seer of Light, dealing with knowledge and such, John couldn't help but feel that she wasn't the one to help him with his terrible memory. There were some problems that even God Tier couldn't fix, which was one of the things he realised when he returned home after so long. Sometimes, John didn't even get out of bed in the morning. 

Usually, Casey would meet him at his bedside at nine in the morning - though she often got the simplistic schedule confused, and John had to get her instead - so that they could go check on the Salamander Village in the Consort Kingdom together. But, that morning, she went alone. John enjoyed the little task that he did with his daughter above all else, and it had simply become * _draining*._ He never wanted it to be.

His eyelids drooped as he stared at the screen in front of him, the display having dimmed in preparation to go to sleep. John dragged his finger across the trackpad, squinting against the bright lights. There he was: Dave, in all his coolness. The teen was lying on his back, faking sleep, and his crocodile consorts had laid a blanket over him, photo-bombing the picture he had attempted to take due to the unusually endearing scene.

It was a soft moment, perfectly captured in time. 

Things like those were exactly what John missed about hanging out with his friends. Shutting the lid to his laptop with a small sigh, the heir wondered if he'd ever go out to see them all. He hadn't even responded to any of Karkat's messages.

"Gee, John. You're really slipping today."

He murmured this to the empty house, voice seeming too quiet compared to the otherwise vast space that was his. John was so tired. He had no energy whatsoever, but the sun remained high in the sky. The day was certainly dragging on regardless of the fact that he'd only been awake for a few hours. Taking off the iconic blue-rimmed glasses that he wore and setting them on the desk, John waited for something - anything - to rouse him.

Around him, the naturally warm breezes that he seemed to generate had stilled, causing a gentle shudder to ripple down his spine. John stood, picking up his glasses and perching them on the end of his nose. It wasn't that he needed the lenses to see; he was fairly sure going God Tier had given him 20-20 vision, but they were as important to him as Dave's shades were to the other.

Glancing towards a dusty photograph on the mantle, he directed a swift breeze to wipe the dust away. It was an old picture of he and his dad, with John himself only about five. Walking to pick it up, he studied it in a silence that had since become comfortable. Sure, he missed his dad, but memories were more than enough, even though his vision blurred with tears. Unlike a Strider, he had never been good at masking his emotions.

As a droplet ran down the glass, the boy traced around his face in the picture. As far back as he could remember, he'd always had the same style of glasses. The first time his dad let him pick the rims he wanted, he'd simply chosen the same ones as his dad had picked for him. Dark blue and obnoxiously rectangular, just as he'd worn before and since.

They helped him remember how much he was loved, in a way, so he didn't want to forget them. That was why it had hurt so much the time they were sucked mercilessly into the void. Just as soon as the first had transpired, another shudder ran through him. Bad memories were threatening to resurface, memories of what had happened before. He groaned aloud, trying to block them out with the noise.

He had been tempted to talk to Rose for another reason: despite the fact that there weren't exactly any functioning universities in Earth C to give her the appropriate qualifications, everyone considered her a good therapist. She'd seen and experienced her fair share of horrors since her stint in Grimdarkness. Maybe she would understand how... depressed he felt. John felt awful for always burdening Dave with the information, even though the group's resident coolkid always seemed so open to it all, even in the times he was sure no one would listen.

After so long in the house, alone, John had acquired a lot of time to think. Some of it was a negative thing, but he'd recently come to terms with a big part of himself that he'd buried around everyone. Since Kanaya and Rose had established that they were together, he'd been ruminating about his own sexuality. It felt a little safer.

There was a more inclusive crowd in Earth C than he and his friends had ever anticipated, so that nobody felt left out. Alienated. There were so many different choices he was able to make, and no legislations in place would exclude him. Being a god had its perks, though that hardly mattered. He had a truth to consider.

He _was_ a homosexual, and he'd caught feelings for his best friend. 

Even though it was a lot to process, he was working through it slowly. Dave had once felt like someone so above him, to put on a pedestal and almost glorify. But through the session, and their chilling times on Earth C together, that had dissolved. They had a lot more in common than he had previously thought, but that did nothing to calm the jitters enveloping his entire body at the mere prospect of meeting with the other boy after so long.

At that moment, the doorbell rang out with a discordant attempt at a tune. John mentally reminded himself to fix that later. He was jolted away from his thoughts, and called out to his visitor tiredly.

"Hold on a minute..."

Dragging his feet, the boy headed to his old room. He'd since relocated some of his dad's ties to the cupboard there, unwilling to part with that aspect of himself and move into the other, bigger space. He discovered that his fingers were shaking despite his prior lethargy, which meant he couldn't tie the knot on the one he'd picked out properly. He was still only 23, but wearing them made him feel a little more mature.

Draping it over one of his shoulders like a dish-towel, the boy headed out to open the door. He was relieved to see that his daughter hadn't completely abandoned him, but the small yellow salamander had someone else in tow, dragging them inside the house while bubbling excitedly.

"Sup?"

Dave's greeting was relaxed, almost to the point of nonchalance, but the other knew him well enough that he wasn't offended by it. The cooler of the two's lips twitched up into a smile upon seeing his friend's shocked expression, and he laughed quietly.

"What's up, Egbert? Have you been rendered speechless by the Strider Charm emanating from my every pore?"

The man noted, clearly recognising that he needed to stay something familiar to relax John.

Still silent, John nodded sheepishly before posing his own greeting.

"Hi, Dave! I haven't seen you in ages. Whatcha been up to?" 

He asked only when he'd cleared his head, but it didn't do much to prevent his voice from squeaking. He wasn't sure how to answer his buddy's question, so he'd swung it back to Dave, whose brows crinkled thoughtfully beneath his shades.

"Not much, really. Chillin', helpin' my bro with his projects. He told me he wanted to dismantle Sawtooth and Squarewave to do something new."

John's face brightened slightly to match the Strider's smile, but it was all he could do to ignore the lethargy that had crept back into his body.

"Woah... That must be hard work. I'm glad you're getting along with him, though!"

Instead of rising in tandem with his excited statement, the young man's voice fell flat. It wasn't that he meant to sound unenthusiastic, he'd just completely zoned out. Standing in dazed silence for a moment, he was only snapped back to reality by Dave's worried questioning.

"Hey, bro, you alright?"

John had no idea how to reply, instead shrugging dumbly. Sure, he wasn't going to die because he hadn't slept for the past few nights, but his limbs felt weighed down by lead. He stared blankly towards the wall behind his friend, whole body beginning to lightly tremble.

"I think I'm fine, yeah... Don't worry about me, 'kay?"

The man's words slurred, and he laughed shakily. He braced himself against the near doorframe, exhaling as the world spun and lurched around his head. Thanks to the ever-increasing list of God Tier benefits, there was no need for him to sleep. Evidently, he should have. He'd not let himself have any relief from his steadily darkening thoughts for weeks.

Dave's hand lightly brushed John's shoulder, causing him to flinch and nearly fall over. He'd retrieved the tie, and was going to ask about whether or not John wanted help tying it, but did something else entirely when he felt the young man sway beneath his touch. While Casey freaked out a little, scampering away from the two to hide, Dave wrapped his arms securely around John's torso to steady him.

"I hate to tell you this, John, but what you're feeling right now is the _exact_ opposite of fine. C'mon, dude. I can take care of you for a bit. Think of it as bro-to-bro bonding." 

Dave held his position there, not speaking, until he felt the other's shaking slow down. He kept a hand on John's shoulder to steady him after the awkward embrace, slowly walking with the trembling man beside him until they reached a little further into the house. Gently, Dave guided his friend to sit down, and then called for Casey.

"C'mere, Case. Your dad needs some serious salamander love."

He never called the yellow salamander 'Casey', preferring 'Case'. She still responded to it, so he didn't see the point in changing his ways. John's adopted daughter peeked her head out from where she was hidden, blowing a bright blue bubble towards the coolkid. She made her way towards him, although she was obviously more concerned about reaching her dad. 

Dave lifted Casey up into his arms and carried her to where John was on the couch. Before placing her down, he whistled and made an explosion noise upon 'impact'. She immediately hugged John's chest, walking across his legs and torso to get to that part of him. He smiled tiredly down at her.

John's eyes were drooping again, and that caused Dave - who was watching over the scene carefully - to frown.

"I can take Casey out of the room if you need some privacy, dude. You seem pretty tired."

His voice was softer than usual, but still held that certain suave that the other regarded as oddly calming. Casey bubbled in protest - or so Dave thought, since salamanders were pretty dim most of the time - and made an indignant noise.

"I think I just... I need to sleep, 'cause I've been awake for a while. But it's nice having you two here."

The man wearily smiled a little more, as if to reassure the two that nothing was wrong. It never reached his eyes.

Nodding, Dave walked to the kitchen. He retrieved a glass of water for his best friend, making sure it was cold to the touch but not icy enough to cause a headache. He returned to the living room to find John softly humming a familiar tune to Casey. It was 'Pipeorgankind', the same dramatic melody that he had once used to clear the skies of his land. A grin split Dave's features moments after.

"Aw, man... Didn't you invite me to the party? Cold."

As always, the Strider's voice held a lilt, nuanced enough that those who knew him well enough could tell whether or not he was joking around. He set the water down, clearing his throat.

"If you need a DJ, I can assure you that my beats are fresher than a cake straight outta the oven."

John stopped humming for a minute, looking towards Dave, who had fallen otherwise silent. He wasn't sure how to respond, but Dave never really expected a response in the first place.

He sat on the couch next to the other, hoisting Casey into his lap with a lop-sided grin. The salamander bubbled again, and he reached out a tentative finger. Ever since he started visiting LOWAS, Dave had never been sure whether or not the large blue objects in the salamander's mouths were their tongues. To his surprise, Casey stayed there. As soon as Dave's finger made contact, however, the salamander licked him, bright blue liquid coating his entire hand. 

This pulled a soft laugh from the boy next to him, due to the fact that the Strider's otherwise perfect hair was sticking up at the front, and he never seemed to notice. Reaching out with his powers, John directed his natural drafts - weaker than usual - to dry and swiftly redirect his hairdo.

Even though he was still incredibly tired, the blue boy was glad for the company. It didn't matter as much that Dave was obnoxious sometimes; he'd always had a keen sense of how others were feeling regardless of his own emotional confusion. As such, the Strider kept his arm around John, the small gesture providing a modicum of comfort more than his natural presence could. 

The simple action was enough for the first tear to spill down John's cheek. He had adjusted himself to the feeling of crying alone, and there was a degree of embarrassment associated with anyone seeing him. But the Knight had always made him feel safer, and made it known that he'd always have a shoulder to cry on if he needed one.

Casey had situated herself on the other cushion, having moved from Dave's lap. She was keeping herself as close to her dad as possible.

Sometimes, John felt.... numb. In a way, he was jealous of the Striders' unique ability to lock away emotions, to not feel at all. He was shaken away from this mindset when Dave began gently wiping his tears away with a tissue. _This_ particular Strider was one of the most empathetic people he knew.

Although doubts were racing through the man's mind, he was doing his best to make John feel safer.

"Let it out, man. It's... It's good for you to cry. You've bottled up so much shit I'm glad you're finding release. Just keep fighting, 'kay? I'm proud of you, John. You're one of the strongest people I know, but..."

Dave broke off as his normally suave, constrained tone wobbled, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"It's okay to break sometimes."

Dave's voice was barely more than a whisper, but it was all he could do not to start crying himself. Feeling John's panicked, shaking gasps slowing down gradually - With the other man pressed firmly against his chest in an awkward embrace - was a relief. It allowed him to let out the breath he had no idea he was holding. 

He knew that his friend was sleeping, the soft breezes he emanated having tightened to curl almost protectively around his body. Gently, he eased his way out of John's lax arms. He stood, walking to the man's old bedroom and retrieving a blanket. He frowned when he saw how thin it was, though. 

Taking off his thick hoodie, he draped it over John's body and scrawled something onto a sticky note: "Keep it. ~D." After attaching the note to the jacket, he bent over and pressed a soft - clearly hesitant - kiss on the other's forehead. Taking off his shades to look at John properly, his expression lifted into a smile. 

Even though he knew John wouldn't hear him, Dave spoke as he left.

"I love you, dude. Good luck."


End file.
